


If You Ever Did Believe

by umbralillium



Series: Teen Magic [1]
Category: Practical Magic (1998), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Discussion of Rape, F/F, Not Season 3 Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/pseuds/umbralillium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spark flickered in Gillian's dream, bringing with it the scent of clove cigarettes, limes, tequila, and whipped cream. Fear jolted through her and she jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, a ghost of a laugh and the last notes of an Elvis song lingering in the still night air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Ever Did Believe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pushing the Practical Magic timeline back four years. In Practical Magic, Gary Hallett clearly states the date as being in March of 1998, which is 4 years too late for Stiles's age to be 16 in 2011 when Jeff Davis says seasons 1 and 2 of Teen Wolf take place. So, I'm fudging the timelines a little. ^_^ Also, I’m following Zynnser’s [timeline](http://zynnser.tumblr.com/post/32789648799/teen-wolf-timeline) for the events of seasons 1 and 2.

A spark flickered in Gillian's dream, bringing with it the scent of clove cigarettes, limes, tequila, and whipped cream. Fear jolted through her and she jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, a ghost of a laugh and the last notes of an Elvis song lingering in the still night air.

 

The bed shifted and a warm arm snaked over her thighs. "S'early," her partner murmured, pressing close.

 

She reached down, finding a bare shoulder, strands of hair under her fingertips, and squeezed gently. "Go back to sleep, it was just a dream," she coaxed. A soft sigh answered her and she gingerly eased herself free of sleepy limbs and tangled blankets. Grabbing clothes off the floor, she slipped from the bedroom, dressing in the hall. A brief stop in another bedroom and she was padding downstairs. She stopped at her desk briefly to leave a short note and to grab a box hidden in her desk; finally she snagged her purse and shoes before darting out the front door to her car.

 

A string tugged at her heart, a bond that not even 3,000 miles and a life spent apart could break. As her home grew smaller in the rearview mirror, Gillian couldn't help remembering what had brought that string into existence.

 

*

 

_Late April 1994 – 7 weeks along_

 

There was only one thing she hadn't told Sally about when she'd come to get Gillian. She'd told her about Jimmy dragging her on some bullshit roadtrip, only letting her grab a few changes of clothes and nothing else. She'd told her that Jimmy had hit her. She hadn't told her that Jimmy had held her down, that he hadn't stopped to put on a condom when she'd asked him to, that she hadn't been given time to grab her birth control pills, that he hadn't stopped when she said no.

 

She hadn't thought before leaving the island. Just the idea of the aunts , Gary, the girls, and especially Sally knowing what had happened, what Jimmy had done, made her want to kill him all over again.

 

Her desire to kill Jimmy Angelov again did not, however, extend to the child growing inside her.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Her cell phone started ringing before she’d gotten more than a handful of miles from the island. She could feel her lover’s panic and worry tugging at her, but she couldn’t turn back. There was someone who needed her. It was Gillian’s turn to do the saving.

 

*

 

_Late May 1994 – 11 weeks along_

 

She'd known it would happen eventually, but it was still a shock to not be able to close her jeans. No one needed to know that she'd sat in a corner of the bathroom of her motel room in Beacon Hills for half an hour, crying. Every day she wished Sally was there with her, helping her cope, comforting her through each new change.

 

After going to the thrift shop and buying a couple new pairs of jeans, Gillian walks to the diner for some lunch and almost runs when a deputy steps inside. He nods a greeting to the waitresses even as his eyes scan the room, resting on Gillian for a long moment until a dark-haired waitress catches his attention. The way they smile at each other makes Gillian ache, remembering the look on Sally's face when Gary had come back.

 

She looks down at the bowl of soup in front of her, stirring it idly. She's not terribly hungry, but she knows she needs to eat, not only for herself. She fights not to jump at the touch of her own hand on her stomach. With a soft sigh, she glances up through her bangs to see the deputy and the waitress cuddling together in the booth in the opposite corner, the rest of the wait staff glancing over at them occasionally with indulgent looks. Gillian notices, though, that a couple of the older waitresses look on in pity and her curiosity piques. She wonders what their story is, whether they're married to each other or other people or if it's something different.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

While waiting for the plane, she reached for her phone, a wry smile tugging at her lips when she saw the dozens of text messages and voicemails. She bit her lip, thumb hovering over Gary’s number, almost tempted to call him and ask him to do some poking around about Beacon Hills. No, she thought, turning her phone off and tucking it away in her purse. She needed to do this by herself, to remind herself, one last time, that she can take care of herself.

 

She’d done it for years before meeting Jimmy. She needed to do this.

 

*

 

_Late June 1994 – 15 weeks along_

 

She has to admit to herself that coming to this little town in Northern California was a good idea. The people of Beacon Hills tended to keep to themselves. She knew they were curious about who she was, since newcomers probably tended to be sparse, but they refrained from asking too many questions, for the most part.

 

In the few weeks she'd been in town, Gillian had learned that the deputy sheriff and the waitress, Patrick and Claudia Stilinski, really were married, but she hadn't found out much beyond that. Whenever she inquired further, the other employees tended to tell her it wasn't their place to tell her. She _did_ know that they all thought it was a shame, though, which wasn't terribly helpful.

 

Not that Gillian had been very forthcoming about herself, either. They didn't even know her real name. She'd gotten in contact with a friend from when she'd first left home and gotten a fake ID made up with the name Sally Garrett. It was a little odd to be answering to Sally, but it was comforting, in a way, to have even a small piece of her sister with her.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

She’d just climbed into the Jeep Grand Cherokee she’d rented at Sacramento Airport when Antonia called her. “Oh, now that’s just cheating,” she muttered. They’d all been surprised when Sally’s little girl had shown more proficiency for technology than magic, but this was stretching things; turning things on from across the country. Sighing, Gillian answered. “You little technomonkey,” she teased.

 

Antonia laughed over the line. “Mama’s worried, Aunt Gilly,” she replied.

 

Gillian smiled at her favorite niece’s laugh. “I’m fine,” she assured Antonia. “Tell her there’s something I need to take care of and I’ll let her know if I need any help.”

 

“Okay,” Antonia said reluctantly. “Need me to do anything for you?”

 

Gillian stopped for a moment, wondering if the Stilinskis still lived in Beacon Hills then shook that thought from her mind. Patrick had seemed to be on the fast track to sheriff, they wouldn’t have moved. Even if they had, someone in Beacon Hills was likely to know where they had gone. “No, it’s okay.”

 

“You sure?” Antonia asked.

 

“Yeah, thanks, Tonia.”

 

“Any time, Aunt Gilly.”

 

*

 

_Early July 1994 – 18 weeks along_

 

It’s more than a little lonely, celebrating her birthday alone. To distract herself, Gillian goes to the local bookstore, picks a book off the shelf at random and curls up in a plush chair to read for a few hours, hoping to take her mind off of things.

 

"Excuse me?" a soft voice interrupts Gillian some time later.

 

She looks up from the book, startled, and manages a smile when she recognizes Claudia. "Hi, Claudia, right?"

 

Claudia smiles and nods. "Sally, right?"

 

Gillian almost corrects her before remembering and nodding. "That's me."

 

"I noticed the book you were reading and couldn't help wondering if you were a fan of the series," Claudia says, gesturing to the book in Gillian's hand.

 

Gillian flips it over to look at the cover and laughs, pushing stray hair behind her ear. "To be honest, I just grabbed it off the shelf at random and then got lost in it."

 

Claudia laughs, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "You should try reading the first book in the series, might help you understand some of the references in that one better."

 

Baffled, Gillian looks closer at the spine of the book and notices the '2' printed on it then laughs, feeling her cheeks heat. "Yeah, that might help," she agrees.

 

"I can lend you my copy of the first book if you want to read it a bit before buying it," Claudia offers.

 

"I'd like that, thank you," Gillian replies after a moment's pause.

 

Claudia opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted when another woman with black hair and piercing green eyes approaches down the aisle, her eyes locked on Gillian. Gillian may not have Sally's talent for casting spells, but she could recognize people with a touch of magic in them. This woman felt like the cool touch of a lake under the full moon and Gillian almost curses aloud. If she'd known this was werewolf territory she wouldn't have stayed so long without announcing herself, especially to an Alpha this strong.

 

"Claudia," the newcomer greets, her eyes darting to Claudia for a moment before returning to Gillian.

 

"Talia," Claudia greets in kind, smiling in welcome. "Talia Hale, Sally Garrett," she introduces before continuing, "We haven't seen you around town in a couple months, Talia."

 

"Cora’s been keeping me busy at home," Talia replies. "How long have you been in Beacon Hills, Miss Garrett?"

 

Gillian darts a glance around, spotting at least two more werewolves standing a discreet distance away. "A couple months," she answers cagily.

 

Talia breathes in subtly enough that Gillian's sure she's the only one who notices. Talia blinks, eyes glancing down at Gillian's belly for a moment before meeting her gaze again, softer now than they were at first. "Planning on staying long?" she asks.

 

Gillian feels some of the tension leave her shoulders as she shrugs. "I'm not sure, a few more months, hopefully, maybe more."

 

With a nod, Talia turns to Claudia and smiles, "You and Pat should come by the house, we can catch up."

 

Claudia glances between Gillian and Talia for a moment, clearly puzzled, before nodding her agreement. "Sure, we'd love to. How are the little ones doing?"

 

A smile curls Talia's lips, softening her face, "Jeremy, Derek, and Laura actually just brought home their school pictures a couple days ago," she answers, reaching into her purse and pulling out her wallet, flipping it open to show off the pictures of three children, a pair of identical boys and a girl. The boys look to be about eight years old while the girl is ten or eleven. Gillian’s heart clenches, homesickness hitting her right in the gut, the pictures bringing to mind the little girls back home.

 

"What about Julia? Is she coping well with Derek, Jeremy, and Laura being at school?" Claudia wonders, brushing her fingers over the edge of Derek's picture, a look of naked longing in her eyes.

 

Talia laughs softly and glances over Claudia's shoulder to one of the men watching her. "Michael and Peter help keep them occupied."

 

Claudia looks up, smiling. "I'm glad." She glances at her watch and curses softly. Talia raises an eyebrow in amusement. "I'm sorry; I need to go get ready for work. Sally, if you want to follow me to the house, I can get that book for you."

 

"Oh, I didn't bring my car," Gillian replies, darting a look at Talia, wondering how the Alpha will react, but Talia just smiles benignly and doesn’t say a word.

 

"It's fine, I can give you a ride to the house and back to the diner," Claudia offers.

 

"All right," Gillian agrees and follows Claudia from the bookstore.

 

Claudia's car is not what Gillian was expecting at all. She doesn't know exactly _what_ she'd been expecting, but it wasn't a Jeep that looked a little worse for wear. Claudia must have spotted Gillian's dubious look because she laughed as she unlocked the passenger door for Gillian. "She doesn't look like much, I know," she says, rounding the car to the driver's side. "But she was my first car when I graduated from high school and she's served me well so far. It's a bit noisy, though, so we won't be able to talk much without yelling."

 

Gillian shrugs as she climbs in. "A car's a car, as long as she works and gets us from point A to point B to point C." Claudia laughs again and starts the Jeep.

 

~

 

The Stilinski home is warm and inviting and makes Gillian long for the tall house by the sea she grew up in. Claudia leads her through the house to a den lined with bookcases. There's a comfortable-looking couch in a corner, a blanket draped over the back and a lamp at one end. "You have a lovely home," Gillian says, looking around curiously.

 

Claudia shoots her a smile over her shoulder. "Thank you," she says before turning back to a bookcase and murmuring to herself as she walks her fingers along the spines until she makes a triumphant sound and pulls a book free. "Here it is."

 

Gillian smiles and takes the book, flipping it over to read the synopsis on the back.

 

“I’m going to go get changed for work, really quick, okay?” Claudia says.

 

“Sure,” Gillian agrees, looking up to smile reassuringly.

 

Claudia gestures at the bookcases. “Feel free to take a look, Pat and I are both avid readers, if there’s anything else you’d like to borrow, let me know.”

 

“Thank you,” Gillian says quietly.

 

Claudia just smiles and heads upstairs.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian was endlessly grateful that GPS came standard in most cars, these days. When she’d found Beacon Hills the first time, she’d been coming down from Oregon and had found the little town almost by accident. This time around, she was coming from a different direction and probably would have gotten lost without the GPS.

 

She pulls up in front of the same motel she’d stayed in last time just as the sun is dipping behind the trees. Minutes later, room key in hand, she collapsed onto the bed. As her eyes closed, she thought that she should probably call Laura and let her know she was in town.

 

*

 

_July 1994_

A couple days after meeting Talia Hale, Gillian drives out to edge of the Hale’s woods and pulls over alongside the road. She’s leaning back against the front bumper when two figures step out of the woods. “Alpha Hale,” Gillian greets quietly, tipping her head back slightly.

 

“What’s your real name?” Talia asks, keeping a careful distance between them.

 

“Gillian Owens,” she answers, not bothering to ask how Talia knew she was using a false name.

 

Talia’s eyes widen and a soft growl slips from the man behind her. “Your family’s reputation precedes you.”

 

Gillian shrugs and bites back the bitter words cluttering up the back of her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t present myself sooner, I wasn’t aware there was a pack here.”

 

“You’ve been preoccupied,” Talia allows, eyes flicking down to Gillian’s stomach briefly. “How far along are you?”

 

“Four and a half months,” Gillian answers.  “I think.”

 

“You haven’t seen a doctor?” the man asks, worry in his voice.

 

Gillian’s laugh is bitter, sad. “I’m unwed and unemployed. I’m tapping out my savings paying for my motel.”

 

“Will you allow a friend of mine to examine you?” Talia asks, her green eyes sympathetic.

 

Gillian bites her lip, torn. “If there was something wrong, I’d know it.”

 

“You know it’s no use lying to a werewolf,” Talia points out, not unkindly.

 

A long sigh escapes Gillian. “Okay,” she says quietly.

 

“There’s a driveway up to the house a dozen yards along the road,” Talia says.

 

Gillian starts in surprise. She’d expected Talia to direct her to her friend, not to offer Gillian sanctuary in her den while whoever it was examined her. “Thank you,” she replies after a long moment.

 

Talia smiles and she and her companion melt back into the shadows of the woods.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian jerked awake a few hours later, groggy and sweaty from sleeping in her clothes, heart pounding from that tug on her heart for the second time in 24 hours. Sighing, she went out and grabbed her suitcase from the car. She’d almost been embarrassed to realize she didn’t even take the time to pack a bag when she got to the airport early that morning. After landing in Sacramento, she’d stopped and bought a suitcase, clothes, and toiletries.

 

Twenty minutes later, fresh from a shower, she drove to the animal clinic, or at least where she hoped it still was. 16 years was a long time to expect Dr. Deaton to still be in business. She needn’t have worried, though, the clinic was still where she remembers it being and there was a light glowing in the back.

 

She tried the door and, finding it unlocked, stepped inside, glancing up at the bell when it rang. Deaton came out of the back, muttering to himself irritably, only to stop in surprise when he saw her. “Gillian,” he greeted her quietly.

 

“Doc,” she replied. “How is he?”

 

“He used mountain ash,” he answered.

 

Gillian sighed and sat on one of the chairs. “I was hoping he wouldn’t have the gift.”

 

“How long has it been since there was a male child in your line?” Deaton asked, coming around the front desk to sit next to her.

 

“I don’t know,” Gillian admitted. “A couple hundred years, at least. There’s legend of a curse one of my ancestors put on us, that no Owens woman would bear a male child.” She laughed softly. “Sally broke the curse on our husbands; maybe that one was broken, too.”

 

“He was conceived before Sally broke the curse, though,” Deaton pointed out gently.

 

She looked down at her hands, realized she’d been picking at her nail polish and flattened her palms against her thighs. “Any other news about him I need to know about?” she asked.

 

“He’s been having a rough time of it, lately. His best friend was bitten by a werewolf a few months ago,” Deaton replied. “And there’s only one Hale left.”

 

She looked up sharply, grief tightening her chest. “Who?”

 

“Derek,” he answered.

 

“Laura’s dead?” she asked, stunned.

 

He nodded sadness in his dark eyes. “Peter killed her to become alpha so he could heal and take revenge on the people who killed the rest of the family. Derek ended up killing Peter,” he explained.

 

She sighed and closed her eyes, heart aching for the shy little boy she met so long ago.

 

*

 

_July 1994_

Gillian pulls up in front of the large house and stares for a long moment. It’s a bit incongruous against the forest surrounding it, but, at the same time, it looked like it belonged there. A moment later, Talia steps out onto the porch and smiles at Gillian. Taking a bracing breath, Gillian climbs out of the car and walks up the porch stairs.

 

“Dr. Deaton is on his way. He’s technically a vet, but he’s been taking care of my pack for years,” Talia tells her, guiding her inside.

 

The inside of the house is as homey as the Stilinskis’ house, as the home Gillian left behind. Her breath hitches in her chest and Talia looks over her shoulder, concern in her eyes.

 

“I’m fine,” Gillian assures her. “Just reminds me a lot of my own home.”

 

Talia smiles softly and looks around at the pictures decorating the walls, the worn rugs covering the floor. “I guess people do tend to forget what they have until it’s gone,” she says philosophically.

 

Gillian laughs shortly, a trace of bitterness in it. “I hadn’t even been home again for very long before…” she trails off, one hand going to her stomach, feeling the tug on the faint thread connecting her to the child within her.

 

“Come on, come meet my family before Deaton gets here, otherwise they’ll be listening at the door, waiting to meet you,” Talia says, touching Gillian’s shoulder lightly.

 

“I’d like that,” Gillian answers with a faint smile, following Talia into the kitchen.

 

The voices that Gillian hadn’t even registered at first fall silent as she and Talia step into the bright warmth of the kitchen. One of the boys and the girl from the pictures Gillian had glimpsed are sitting at the kitchen table, homework spread out in front of them. The girl is just pulling her pencil away from the boy’s homework. The man that had been in the woods with Talia is sitting across from them, another little girl on his lap.

 

“Gillian, this is my husband, Michael; my eldest daughter, Laura; my son, Derek; and my second youngest, Julia,” Talia introduces. “My other boy, Jeremy, and my littlest one, Cora, are out with their Uncle Peter, right now.”

 

“Hi,” Gillian greets them quietly, smiling faintly.

 

“Hi!” both girls answer brightly. Derek nods a greeting, sniffs a bit, and glances down at her stomach before ducking his head back to his homework.

 

“Welcome, Gillian. Can we get you anything to drink?” Michael asks.

 

“Water is fine,” Gillian replies, watching Derek. There’s something about him. She doesn’t know what it is, but she has a feeling he’ll be very important in the future; maybe not to her, but to someone close to her. Maybe… she shakes the thought from her mind. Foresight has never been a gift the Owens women possessed.

 

“Here you go,” Talia’s voice pulls Gillian out of her thoughts.

 

She takes the glass Talia hands her with a smile and takes a sip. “Thanks.”

 

Talia smiles, tilts her head back the way they came. “Come on,” she says quietly. “We’ll be in the library if you need us, Mick,” she adds. “Send Alan in there when he gets here?”

 

Michael nods. “Sure.”

 

*

 

_Present_

 

“So, why did he need to use rowan?” Gillian asked quietly, watching Deaton closely. “What’s been going on?”

 

Deaton laughed wryly. “That could take a while,” he admitted. “And I have the feeling we don’t have a lot of time.”

 

She nodded, glancing out the window in the door at the full moon. “The Worm Moon,” she said quietly. “There are forces moving tonight. Anyone with a hint of magic can feel it. Something’s happening.” She shivered, remembering another Worm Moon. “I think we have a little time. Give me the Cliff’s Notes.”

 

He chuckled and began.

 

*

 

_July 1994_

 

Dr. Deaton pulls the stethoscope down around his neck and smiles up at Gillian. “The baby sounds healthy. I can’t tell much without an ultrasound, but it sounds like you’re not in any danger, Miss Owens.”

 

Gillian smiles and places a hand on her bare stomach. “Thanks, doctor.”

 

“I _do_ recommend you see an actual obstetrician,” he adds quietly, tugging his stethoscope off and putting it in the bag he’d brought with him. “I’m just a veterinarian.”

 

She shakes her head, pulling her shirt back down to cover her stomach. “I can’t. I don’t have insurance and I don’t have any way to pay for it, if I did.”

 

He sighs and nods. “All right. What about when the baby’s ready to be born?”

 

She lifts her chin. “I’m not the first Owens woman to get pregnant, Doc. None of us have died in childbirth, yet. I won’t be the first to break the record.”

 

“Yes, the reputation of the Owens family has spread quite far,” he comments with a rueful laugh. He pulls a business card out of his pocket and hands it to her. “If you need any help, I may not have delivered any _human_ babies, yet, but there’s always a first time.”

 

“Thanks, Doc,” she says, laughing quietly.

 

“Any time, Miss Owens.”

 

*

 

_Present_

Gillian rubbed her forehead as Deaton finished telling her about the last couple months’ worth of events in Beacon Hills. “Derek’s going to get someone killed, if he’s not careful.”

 

Deaton sighed, staring down at his hands. “He’s young, he was never meant to be Alpha. There are certain things Talia never got to teach him.”

 

She sat back in her chair, looking out at the moon again. “Stiles needs to know,” she said. “He’s lucky he hasn’t been bitten, yet.”

 

He looked up, sharply, staring at her. “What do you mean?”

 

“Our magic doesn’t react well to the Bite,” she replied. “One of my great-great-aunts was bitten about a hundred years ago. It didn’t end well for her.”

 

“Tonight is Lydia Martin’s birthday party,” he informed her, standing from his seat, shooting her a wry smile. “If Stiles is anywhere, he’ll be there.”

 

Gillian stood as well, following Deaton out of the office. “How are Patrick and Claudia?”

 

He sighed deeply as he locked the door. “Claudia passed a couple years ago. I don’t know the details, but Patrick and Stiles were devastated.”

 

“So much death in this town,” she observed quietly.

 

“Too much,” Deaton agreed.

 

*

 

_Late August 1994 – 24 weeks along_

Gillian is laughing with the Stilinskis and the Hales when she feels it: a faint flutter in her womb and in her heart. Her breath catches in her chest and Derek looks up at her from his spot by her side. “Sally?” he asks quietly.

 

She smiles down at him and holds out her hand. “Give me your hand,” she whispers. He offers his hand and she gently guides it to her stomach. She feels him stiffen, wolf instincts uncomfortable being so close to her vulnerable belly. The flutter comes again and he stares, surprised.

 

“What was that?” he asks, wonder in his pale eyes.

 

“That’s my baby. He’s started moving around inside me,” she explains with a smile.

 

“Wow,” he whispers, still staring at her stomach.

 

Jeremy scrambles off the bench on Derek’s other side and darts around to stand between them, bouncing. “Can I feel?”

 

“Of course,” Gillian agrees, taking his hand and placing it near Derek’s. An awestruck look comes over his face at the thump against his palm.

 

“Wow,” Jeremy whispers.

 

Gillian glances up to find the Hales watching the twins with soft smiles while Patrick holds Claudia close, her head on his shoulder. She aches for them, for the longing that’s so plain in their eyes when they look at her, at her growing belly.

 

*

 

_Present_

Gillian and Deaton were almost to their cars when they felt it: power gathering, moving along the ley lines. She wondered if Stiles could feel it, too. If he even knew what it was he was feeling. She and Deaton both drew in sharp breaths when the power crested and then fell away. Exchanging a glance, they climbed into their cars. _Something_ big had happened and, Gillian was sure, they both knew that power of that magnitude on this night was _not_ good news.

 

She barely slowed for the stop signs between the clinic and Hale House, driving more by instinct than design; by the metaphysical signs pointing towards the old house like neon signs saying, ‘bad shit has happened here.’

 

By the time she and Deaton arrived, the magic has faded almost completely, just a faint signature guiding them into the ruined house, to Derek laying on the floor, unconscious, a hole in the floor beside him.

 

*

 

_Mid September 1994 – 27 weeks along_

Gillian sighs softly, staring out over the Hales’ back garden. The leaves are beginning to turn and the spice of fall filters through the lingering heat of late summer. Being farther north, Beacon Hills isn’t nearly as hot as Arizona in the summer, but the scent of fall makes her ache for Massachusetts and the tall white house by the sea.

 

A familiar scent drifts to her on the wind and a tear trails down her cheek.

 

“Oh, my darling girl.”

 

Gillian gasps and turns in her seat to see Aunt Frances standing in the kitchen doorway. “Frances,” she whispers, struggling to her feet.

 

“No, no, sit down, Gilly,” Frances admonishes, crossing to porch to settle on the lounge chair by Gillian’s knees. “Let me look at you.”

 

Gillian sobs out a laugh and settles back against the lounge. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for, darling girl,” Frances replies as she places a hand on Gillian’s belly, smiling when the baby kicks against her hand. “Well she certainly is a healthy one.”

 

Smile falling away, Gillian looks out over the forest. “He,” she corrects softly, glancing at Frances out of the corner of her eye.

 

Frances is quiet for a moment, absorbing the information, then she smiles. “Well, it will certainly be refreshing to have a little boy running around the place.”

 

“No,” Gillian denies, shaking her head, more tears falling. “I can’t, Franny. I’m a mess, I couldn’t even get away from Jimmy without Sally’s help, how am I going to take care of a baby?”

 

“We’re more than willing to help you, Gilly-bean. You know that,” Frances offers.

 

Gillian shakes her head again. “I can’t. I can’t do that to you. You and Jet aren’t young; Sally’s got her girls to think of. No. I won’t do that to my family.”

 

Frances sighs and nods. “What are you going to do, then?”

 

“There’s a deputy,” Gillian explains. “He and his wife have been trying to have a baby for ten years, but they can’t. They’re giving up. They’ll adopt him, if I ask.”

 

Disapproval creases Frances’s face. “You haven’t asked, yet?”

 

Gillian bites her lip and shakes her head. “I haven’t gotten the courage up, yet.”

 

“I’m sure Alpha Hale won’t mind inviting them to dinner so you can ask,” Frances says.

 

“Frances!” Gillian protests. “This is their territory, we can’t just—“

 

“We’ll owe her a favor,” Frances interrupts. “For taking you in when you needed it. Well, two, since she’ll be helping us find one of our offspring a good home as well.”

 

Gillian sighs and relaxes further back into the chair, some of the tension that had been lingering in her shoulders dissipating. She held out a hand to Frances, smiling when she gripped tight. “I’m glad at least one of you is here. I’ve missed all of you.”

 

Frances kissed Gillian’s knuckles. “I know. We’ve missed you, too, darling girl. Gary wanted to file a report, get all of the federal alphabet soup into a tizzy.”

 

A laugh escapes Gillian. “How’d you stop him?”

 

“Sally and Jet agreed with him, but I took him aside, explained a few things, and we came to an agreement,” Frances explained, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. “We agreed that he would tell Jet and Sally that he’d filed reports and, when they asked, he’d tell them there was no word yet.

 

“Meanwhile, I spoke to some of my contacts and eventually got to Talia.”

 

Gillian smiles tiredly. “Thank you.”

 

“For what, darling?”

 

“For understanding.”

 

“Always, my Gilly-bean.”

 

~

 

“Pat, Claudia, this is my aunt, Frances,” Gillian introduces, smiling as they all shook hands.

 

“Gillian’s told me so much about you,” Frances says.

 

“Gillian?” Patrick questions, glancing at her.

 

She sighs and gestures toward the study. “There’s some things I need to talk to you about. Talia’s offered her study so we’ll have some privacy to talk.”

 

Once they’re all settled, Gillian sits back in her chair, one hand on her belly. “My name is Gillian Owens. I lied about my name because I didn’t want my family to find me.”

 

“Except…” Claudia trails off, glancing at Frances.

 

Gillian follows Claudia’s gaze with a soft laugh. “Aunt Frances has connections even I didn’t know about, but I’m glad she’s here.” She holds her hand out, smiling when Frances takes her hand and squeezes gently. “There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t want them to find me. Most of those reasons I’d rather not talk about, but there _is_ one that, I hope, concerns the two of you.”

 

“Us?” Patrick asks, frowning. “Why us?”

 

“Because you’re good people and I know you’ll raise my son to be a good man.”

 

Hope fills Claudia’s eyes with tears. “Are you sure, Sa-Gillian?”

 

Gillian nods. “I—“ she breaks off and looks to Frances for strength. Frances’s grip on her hand tightens for a moment in support. “My ex-boyfriend raped me.” She lets out a slow breath, staring down at the carpet. “I don’t hate my son for his father’s sins, but I’m not ready to be the mother that he needs.” She looks up and meets Claudia and Patrick’s eyes. “I know you’ll be that mother, Claudia.”

 

“Gillian—“ Patrick starts but he stops when Gillian shakes her head.

 

“Jimmy won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she says vehemently. “His death was ruled accidental and I hope he burns in hell for what he’s done in this life.”

 

Patrick stares into her eyes for a long moment before nodding, tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

 

She smiles. “Just take care of him for me.”

 

“Should we tell him?” Claudia asks. “About you?”

 

Gillian shrugs. “That’s up to you. If he wants to find me, I won’t be hiding from him. I won’t be changing my name.”

 

Claudia stands from the couch she’d been sharing with Patrick and walks over to hug Gillian. “Thank you,” she says tearfully. “ _Thank you._ ”

 

Gillian hugs her back, hiding her tearing eyes against the other woman’s shoulder. “Take care of him.”

 

“As best we can,” Patrick promises.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian stared at the burnt out house, wondering what Derek was punishing himself for by leaving this place standing. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her body. Ghosts of memories played in her mind of what the house had been like the last month of her pregnancy, after she’d moved in with the Hales not long before Aunt Frances had shown up.

 

She remembered the child Derek had been. The child that had curled up with her on the living room couch, one ear pressed to her belly while she read to him and the baby boy growing inside her. She wondered what had happened to that little boy.

 

The front door of the house opened and she straightened from her lean against the driver’s door of her rental. Derek emerged just behind Alan and froze when he saw her. “Gillian?”

 

“Derek,” she greeted with a wan smile.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping down onto the leaf-covered ground.

 

“Same reason Alan’s here,” she answered. “Anyone with a shred of power knows what happened here tonight. Who was it? Did you do it?”

 

“Peter and no, I didn’t do it.” Derek looked out into the dark of the forest. “One of the high school girls knocked me out with wolfsbane and brought me here. I don’t know how she knew what to do, but she brought him back.”

 

Gillian shivered and tucked her arms even tighter around her body.

 

“Are you alright?” Alan asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

 

She shied away and shook her head. “I’m fine. Just bad memories.” She pushed away from the car door and turned to open it. “Come on, we need to get to Stiles.”

 

“Why? Shouldn’t we be going after Peter?” Derek asked, stepping closer.

 

“If he didn’t kill you, he’ll keep for now,” she answered, pausing with one foot in the car. “Stiles needs our help more than we need to worry about Peter. Get in.”

 

“Why me?” Derek questioned even as he rounded the car to the passenger’s side. “How do you know Stiles is in trouble?”

 

“Because he’s my son and he’s an Owens,” she answered wryly while Derek climbed in. “We tend to attract trouble.”

 

Gillian waved goodbye to Alan as she pulled away from the Hale house. Derek snorted in the seat next to her.

 

“Oh, so you’ve noticed that?” she asked, a trace of humor in her voice.

 

“Considering he’s the one that dragged Scott out here the night he got bitten, yeah,” Derek replied.

 

“What happened to Scott is no one’s fault except Peter,” she snapped, frowning into the dark beyond her headlights.

 

“I’m not saying it’s Stiles’s fault,” Derek placated. “I’m saying Stiles should’ve stayed out of it.”

 

“Out of what?”

 

“All of it.”

 

*

 

_October 21 st, 1994 – 7 weeks premature_

Gillian gasps for breath as pain ripples through her womb. Derek looks up at her, confusion and worry in his eyes, just as he has every time she’s felt a contraction since they settled on the couch to read out loud to the baby.

 

“Are you okay, Auntie Bean?” he asks, just like every time before.

 

She reaches down and smoothes her hand over his hair. “I’m fine, Derek. Nothing to worry about.”

 

He goes still then sits up quickly, staring down at the couch. “Um, Auntie Bean?”

 

She closes her eyes, heat flooding her cheeks. “Yes, Derek?”

 

“Did. Um. Did you…?” he trails off, embarrassed.

 

“No, that was something inside me that the baby doesn’t need anymore.”

 

His eyes go wide and tears start to gather. “Did something happen to him?”

 

A strained laugh escapes her. “No, sweetheart,” she assures him. “It’s his way of telling me that—“ she breaks off, gasping for breath as another contraction hits. “That he’s coming,” she finishes.

 

“Oh. _Oh._ ”

 

She laughs again and pushes to her feet. “I need some towels; can you get me some towels, please? I’ll be in the bathroom.”

 

“Sure, Auntie Bean,” Derek agrees, scrambling off the couch and upstairs to the linen cupboard.

 

Gillian slowly makes her way to the downstairs bathroom. She has never been more grateful for her penchant for going barefoot. She _really_ wouldn’t want to have to take shoes off, right now. Not that she would’ve been able to fit into any of her shoes since her feet swelled weeks ago. But hey, she has to concentrate on something besides the fact that her son is coming at the most inconvenient time when it’s just her and Derek in the house, let alone the fact that he’s seven weeks early.

 

She’s just taken her soiled underwear off when Derek races into the bathroom, arms full of towels. “You didn’t tell me how many, so I grabbed all of them.”

 

She somehow manages to laugh through the next contraction, clinging to the sink and her belly. “Thank you, Derek,” she says. “I’m sorry if I’m scaring you, but you’re being really brave for me.”

 

He draws himself a little bit taller and manages a smile.

 

~

 

When the rest of the family arrives home a few hours later, bags for the upcoming baby shower in hand, it’s to find the smell of blood filling the house, Gillian and Derek slumped on the bathroom floor, exhausted, with a newborn baby asleep on Gillian’s chest.

 

“Surprise?” Gillian says sheepishly, one trembling hand ruffling the baby’s dark hair.

 

“Shh, sleepin’,” Derek mumbles against her shoulder. Gillian smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

“You never answered my question,” Derek observed quietly.

 

Gillian glanced over to find him staring out the windshield. “Because I trust you.”

 

“I’m not the little boy you remember, Gillian,” he said tiredly.

 

“Maybe you don’t see yourself that way,” she answered. “But I can still see him, beneath all the guilt and pain, there’s still that boy that liked to listen to my son’s heartbeat while I read to them. Do you still listen to Stiles’s heartbeat?”

 

Derek huffed a loud sigh and didn’t reply. “Why are you really here?”

 

“Because Stiles needs me, he needs to know what I can teach him,” she replied, turning into the heart of town.

 

“Why now? Why not come sooner?”

 

“I didn’t know if he would have the gift,” she said quietly. “He was better off without me.”

 

“Bullshit,” Derek snarled.

 

“Derek—“

 

“No,” he interrupted. “He needed you years ago. When Claudia died, he and Pat were a mess.”

 

“I couldn’t replace her as his mother,” Gillian replied.

 

“I’m not expecting you to!” he argued. “He needs someone who will listen to him, someone who will support him, someone he can confide in. He’s determined to keep Pat out of it, won’t tell him anything, but you already know, he doesn’t have to lie to you.”

 

“He doesn’t even know who I am,” she answered, ignoring the tears threatening to escape.

 

“Then give him a chance to know you,” he told her, finally reaching across the space between their seats and resting his hand on her shoulder. “He knows he’s adopted, Pat and Claudia never kept that from him. He’ll be mad at you, confused, but give him time. Let him know you’re there, if he needs to talk. Just let him know that there’s someone who understands.”

 

She sighed and pulled into the sheriff station parking lot next to the familiar battered jeep.

 

*

 

_October 27 th, 1994_

 

Leaving Beacon Hills is harder than Gillian thought it would be. It’s become something of a second home over the last several months; she’s made friends who understand her for the first time in her life.

 

She moves down the line of people in the Hales’ front yard, hugging each of them. When she reaches Derek, she crouches down and pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispers.

 

He clings to her, sniffling in her ear. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

 

“Tell you what, why don’t we become pen pals? I’ll write to you, you’ll write to me,” she suggests, pulling back to look into his eyes. “How about that?”

 

He nods enthusiastically, grinning. “Yes, please.”

 

She smiles and kisses his forehead. Standing, she turns to the last two people, her son held secure in Claudia’s arms. “Take care of him,” she says quietly, smoothing her hand over his dark hair. “He’s going to be a special boy.”

 

Claudia nods, reaching out and pulling Gillian into a hug. “Thank you,” she says emphatically.

 

Gillian sniffles and shakes her head. “Thank _you_.”

 

Patrick laughs softly next to them and wraps his arms around both of them. “Take care of yourself, Gillian. We wouldn’t mind a letter or two, either.”

 

“Same here,” Gillian replies, smiling.

 

“Gillian,” Frances calls gently from where she’s waiting by the cab.

 

Gillian backs away to stand next to Frances, taking one last look at these families that had taken her in, made her theirs when she wasn’t looking. “Thank you,” she tells them before climbing into the car.

 

~

 

It’s a bit of a drive to the airport, but Frances seems to understand the mood Gillian’s in and simply turns on the radio and leaves her be. Once they’re on the plane back to Massachusetts, the rental Gillian had driven across the country safely returned to the local rental company branch, it’s much the same. Gillian falls asleep somewhere over Wyoming and doesn’t wake up until they’re landing in Boston.

 

Sally, Jet, and the girls are waiting for them at the gate. Gillian can see the worry and fear fall from Sally’s and Jet’s shoulders when they spot her. The girls practically scream her name and barrel into her legs. Gillian laughs and crouches down to hug her nieces. “Oh my goddess, you two have gotten bigger!” she says, smiling. “I didn’t think that was possible!”

 

Antonia and Kylie laugh and hug her even tighter.

 

Sally’s laughter flows over them and Gillian looks up into her sister’s dark eyes. “Hey, Sal,” Gillian greets quietly.

 

Sally’s smile is a little wobbly as she nudges in between the girls to hug Gillian tight. “Don’t you run off on me like that again, you hear me, Gilly-bean?”

 

“Yeah,” Gillian agrees, fighting tears. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Sally replies through a sniffle. “Just don’t do it again.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

Sally laughs again and pulls back to meet Gillian’s eyes. “I’ll take it.”

 

Jet doesn’t say a word as she comes over for her own hug. She just hugs Gillian tight, smoothing a hand over her hair.

 

Gillian sighs and buries her face in Jet’s shoulder, her tears finally slipping her control.

 

“I’m sorry,” she gasps into Jet’s shoulder.

 

“Sh, I’m here, Gilly-bean,” Jet murmurs. “A few tears can be more healing than a mugwort draught any day.”

 

Gillian manages a laugh before she pulls back to dash away her tears. “It’s good to be back,” she says. “I’ve missed you all.”

 

“Come on, there’s a brownie at home with your name on it,” Jet cajoles, wrapping an arm around Gillian’s waist.

 

Sally comes up on Gillian’s other side, one arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Where’s Gary?” Gillian asks.

 

“He’s a deputy, now,” Sally answers, pride in her voice. “He wanted to come, but he had to work today.”

 

“A deputy,” Gillian echoes, impressed. “Good for him. I’m happy for him. Still got the star?”

 

Sally laughs and nods. “Still has a star.”

 

~

 

Dinner that night is a raucous affair, the girls begging for stories of what Gillian had done while she was away while also trying to fill her in on everything that had happened on Maria’s Island at the same time.

 

Gillian manages to get a word in edgewise long enough to ask Kylie and Antonia about their magical studies and they’re off again, babbling about lighting candles and Antonia making a cassette rewind from across the room.

 

By the time dessert is over and Sally sends the girls off to bed, Gillian’s exhausted. She begs off having coffee with the other adults and trudges upstairs to her room. It’s only once she’s in the quiet of her room, her favorite black cat curled up by her feet, that she finally lets herself really cry like she’s been wanting to since that last glimpse of her son in Claudia’s arms.

 

She doesn’t even twitch when Frances sits on the bed and combs her fingers through Gillian’s hair; she just shifts position until her head is in Frances’s lap. “My darling girl,” Frances says softly, sadly, bending to press a kiss to Gillian’s hair.

 

“I miss him,” Gillian confesses, arms wrapped tight around her belly. “I miss having him inside me, I miss feeling him move, I miss having him in my arms.”

 

“I know,” Frances replies as a tear lands on Gillian’s temple.

 

Her cries taper off and she looks up at Frances. “You do?”

 

“Before Ethan died,” Frances begins, gaze far away, fingers beginning to work some of Gillian’s hair into a braid. “I was pregnant. I was six months along when Ethan died and I miscarried our baby girl.”

 

Gillian sits up, Frances’s hands falling away, the braid unraveling, and hugs Frances tight. “I’m sorry.”

 

Frances hugs back and shakes her head a little. “It was years ago, now.”

 

“It still hurts,” Gillian rebuts.

 

“Yes, yes, it does,” Frances sighs.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian almost ran into Derek’s back when he stopped just inside the station. “What is it?” she asked, leaning around him to look around.

 

“Blood,” he answered quietly, eyes darting around the reception area. He crept further into the room towards a door leading deeper into the building then froze with his hand on the counter. “Gillian.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _Run._ ”

 

She turned to run back out the door, but the way is blocked by a half-lizard teenage boy. She bit back a shriek, backing up into Derek. “What in seven hells is a kanima doing here?”

 

“Long story,” Derek replied with a hint of a lisp.

 

“Obviously you haven’t had any luck getting rid of it,” Gillian observed wryly.

 

“Working on it,” Derek answered shortly.

 

“Okay,” Gillian murmured, frantically trying to remember her lessons on supernatural creatures. “Um. Shit.” The kanima took a step forward and Gillian and Derek took a step back. The kanima kept moving forward until they were down a hallway nearly to the door at the end. He reached out with clawed hands and turned them towards the door.

 

Through the door, Gillian could hear voices then the door opened, revealing Stiles and two other teenage boys. The boy closest to the door glanced from Gillian to Derek and said, “Oh, thank God.”

 

There was a sharp pain at the base of Gillian’s neck. Her legs gave out and she and Derek tumbled to the floor at the boys’ feet. Gillian glared up at the boy that stepped closer, peering at her and Derek.

 

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked. “ _This_ kid?”

 

“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.” The kid snorted and looked to Stiles and the third boy. “Oh! That’s right! I’ve learned a thing or two lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It’s like a fricking Halloween party every full moon,” he grumbled. “Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?”

 

“Abominable snowman,” Stiles replied and Gillian’s pretty sure she would have laughed if she’d been able to. “But it’s more of a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal.”

 

The kid controlling the kanima made a motion with his head. The kanima’s hand snapped out and Scott cried out as Stiles tumbled down on top of Derek. “Bitch,” Stiles muttered as he fell.

 

“Get him off of me,” Derek grumbled.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Derek,” the kid replied with a smarmy grin. “I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kind of suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you. Just because of a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

 

“Still got some teeth,” Derek shot back. “Get down here a little closer, huh? See how helpless I am.”

 

“Yeah, bitch,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest.

 

The kid laughed a little and turned to Gillian. “And you are?”

 

“Someone you really don’t want to cross, kid,” Gillian growled, still frantically trying to remember her kanima lore.

 

“I specifically remember giving Jackson instructions to kill anyone that isn’t Melissa McCall or Derek,” the kid said, crouching down a little closer, eyeing Gillian like she’s a bug to be studied. “What makes you so special that he’d go against my orders?”

 

“Some secrets aren’t meant to be shared,” Gillian replied, glaring at him.

 

“This is one secret you really don’t want to try and keep, lady,” the kid said, bringing the gun in his hand up to point at the third kid. “How about I shoot Scott here and find out if that will loosen your tongue?”

 

“Go ahead,” Gillian goaded. “He’s not my concern.”

 

“No?” The kid pointed the gun at Derek. “What about dear old Derek, here? You came in with him, you obviously know him.”

 

Gillian refused to flinch.

 

“Hmm, still a no. What about—“ Before he could switch targets a third time, headlights trailed through the window, accompanied by the sound of a car pulling up to the station.

 

He paused and turned to look at the third kid. “Is that her?” he asked, standing. “Do what I tell you to and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her.”

 

“Scott, don’t listen to him! Don’t trust him!” Stiles called out and Gillian wanted to smack him for drawing attention to himself.

 

The kid spun and pulled Stiles over onto his back, one foot coming down on his chest, making Stiles choke.

 

“Stop!” Gillian cried at the same time as Scott. Both boys froze and turned to Gillian. She wanted to smack herself, now.

 

“Who is he to you, huh?” the kid asked, not letting up on Stiles.

 

“Gillian, don’t,” Derek told her.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles managed to croak. “You’re Gillian?”

 

“Who. The fuck. Are you?” the kid demanded.

 

“Gillian Owens,” Gillian answered resignedly. “I’m Stiles’s birth mom.”

 

“Hello? Anyone here?” a woman called from the reception area.

 

“As much as I would love to stay and see this lovely reunion,” the kid said, turning to Scott and motioning to the door with his gun. “I have other matters to attend to. Do what I say and I won’t hurt her,” he reminded Scott.

 

“Alright, just stop, please,” Scott begged and the kid finally moved his foot off of Stiles.

 

He turned to Jackson and tilted his head towards the next room. “You, take them in there,” he turned to Scott and said, “You, with me.”

 

Scott and the other kid left the room, closing the door behind them, and Jackson turned to the three of them. “So, someone wanna fill a girl in on what the _hell_ is going on here?” Gillian asked as Jackson started dragging them into the next room.

 

“Matt’s controlling the kanima,” Stiles answered through grit teeth as he was dragged along. “He made Scott and I get rid of all the evidence that he killed people. He locked my dad—“ he broke off when a gunshot pierced the air followed by a woman’s scream and Patrick yelling from deeper in the station.

 

“Scott! Stiles! What happened?! Matt? Matt, listen to me!” Patrick called.

 

“Shut up!” Matt yelled back. “Everybody shut the hell up!”

 

“Wonderful,” Gillian groaned. “Pat’s here? Has he seen anything? Has he seen the kanima?”

 

“No,” Stiles answered miserably. “And I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

 

“I wouldn’t hold out much hope for that, kiddo,” Gillian replied with a sigh. “Not with monster mash over there wandering around.”

 

“Huh. Monster mash. I’ll have to remember that one,” Stiles muttered.

 

“Now I know where he gets it from,” Derek grumbled.

 

“Hey, smartass is a proud Owens tradition, buddy,” Gillian defended. “I seem to remember a certain little boy laughing at some of my smartass remarks the last time I was here.”

 

“You knew the Hales?” Stiles asked incredulously. “You knew my birth mom? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“When have you ever believed a word I said, huh?” Derek growled back. “You’re always cracking jokes and talking, you never take the time to _listen_.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Gillian stepped in. “There’s a time and place for this, boys, and it’s not—“ She broke off when Scott and Matt walked back into the room.

 

“The evidence is gone,” Scott reminded Matt. “Why don’t you just go?”

 

“You really think the evidence mattered that much, huh?” Matt asked. “No, no, I want the book.”

 

“What book?” Scott asked, puzzled.

 

“The bestiary!” Matt replied impatiently. Gillian, Stiles, and Derek exchanged looks. “Not just a few pages, the entire thing.”

 

“I don’t have it,” Scott insisted. “It’s Gerard’s. What do you want it for, anyway?”

 

“I need answers,” Matt said, looking away from Scott but Gillian could see the desperation in his eyes.

 

“Answers to what?” Scott demanded.

 

Matt stared at Scott for a moment before he lifted his shirt and said, “To this.” Scales arced over his side, leeching into his pale skin.

 

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna need some serious moisturizing for that,” Gillian couldn’t help remarking.

 

Derek groaned beside her and Matt spun around to point the gun at her. “I don’t remember asking you,” he snarled. “Unless there’s something you want to share with the class?”

 

“No, sorry, my lessons on what to do when you’re growing scales were a long time ago,” Gillian answered, inwardly cringing and wishing she could bite her own tongue. “I’ve forgotten most of it.”

 

“If you don’t have anything _useful_ to contribute, shut the hell up!” Matt said, gradually getting louder until he was nearly shouting.

 

“Sorry,” Gillian muttered, looking away from Matt.

 

He turned back to Scott and motioned him out of the room. “Come on, we’re not done here.”

 

Jackson stayed behind in the doorway, guarding them.

 

“Hey,” Stiles whispered. “Do either of you know what’s happening to Matt?”

 

“The book’s not going to help him,” Derek whispered back. “You can’t just break the rules, not like this.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The universe balances things out,” Gillian answered. “Always does.”

 

“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?” Stiles asked.

 

“And killing people himself,” Derek confirmed.

 

“So if Matt breaks the rules of the kanima,” Stiles wondered. “He becomes the kanima?”

 

“Balance,” Gillian answered.

 

“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”

 

“Not likely,” Derek answered, voice a little strained.

 

“Okay, he’s going to kill all of us when he gets that book, isn’t he?” Stiles guessed.

 

“Yup,” Gillain confirmed.

 

“All right, so what do we do?” Stiles asked. “Do we just lay here and wait to die?”

 

“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster,” Derek replied. “By triggering the healing process.”

 

There was a moist, meaty noise and Gillian heard Derek’s breath catch in his throat for a moment.

 

“What? What’re you do—? Oh, _gross_ ,” Stiles muttered.

 

“So, Stiles, aside from being kidnapped and held hostage,” Gillian said, trying to distract both of them from what Derek was doing. “How’re you doing?”

 

Stiles huffed a semblance of a laugh. “Been better. What brings you to Beacon Hills?”

 

“Oh, not much, just a certain someone finally tapping into their power,” Gillian replied with faux cheer.

 

“You felt that?” Stiles asked, incredulous.

 

“You’re a wizard, Stiles,” Gillian quipped just to hear Stiles laugh again. “Well, more a witch, really. Or maybe a wizard, I don’t know, I’d have to ask the aunts about the technical semantics.”

 

“If I’m a witch, why didn’t you keep me?” Stiles asked bitterly. “Why didn’t you train me?”

 

“I didn’t know you would have the gift,” Gillian answered quietly. “The last male child in my family was over a hundred years ago and he didn’t have it.”

 

“The last male—? How is that possible?” Stiles questioned.

 

Gillian drew in a slow breath, fighting back the memories crowding in for attention. “There’s only one way an Owens woman can conceive a male child. It’s not pretty and a constant reminder that we weren’t strong enough to fight back.”

 

“Oh my God, Gillian,” Stiles said, apologetic. “I-I’m—“

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” she assured him. “I don’t blame you for what he did. He’s been gone a long time, the only way he can hurt me, anymore, is in my dreams.”

 

“I get why you wouldn’t want—“

 

“No!” she interrupted. “No, Stiles, I wanted to keep you. I wanted you so much, but I knew I wouldn’t have been able to give you the care and attention you would have needed. I could barely take care of myself, at the time, let alone a newborn. Pat and Claudia wanted children so badly, but they couldn’t. I knew they’d take care of you like you deserved.”

 

“Mom’s dead,” Stiles said, voice cracking.

 

“I know,” Gillian replied. “Deaton told me. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

 

“You’re not replacing her,” Stiles insisted.

 

“I’m not trying to,” Gillian answered. “I just want to get to know my son better.”

 

“Do I—“

 

“I will answer any questions you have, Stiles,” Gillian assured him. “But right now, we have bigger things to worry about. Is that hypothetical situation we talked about getting any less hypothetical, Derek?”

 

“Think so,” Derek answered. “I can move my toes.”

 

Stiles and Gillian sighed. “Dude, _I_ can move _my_ toes,” Stiles said.

 

“Gillian?”

 

“Yup, same here,” she confirmed. Above them, the lights flickered and went out, then emergency klaxons blared to life. “Great,” she muttered sarcastically.

 

“What’s going on?!” Matt yelled from the next room. Gillian lifted her head as best she could as headlights flooded the room followed soon after by automatic gunfire.

 

“SCOTT!” Stiles yelled, panicked. The gunfire stopped then there was a flash of light and smoke filled the main room. “Scott?”

 

A figure came running out of the smoke. Scott tackled Jackson into the doorjamb and pushed him out of the way before he dropped to his knees next to Stiles.

 

“Take them!” Derek ordered, struggling to his knees.

 

Scott slung one of Stiles’s arms over his shoulder and reached out for Gillian.

 

“Don’t worry about me, just go,” she ordered as she floated upright, cursing when her head flopped backwards. “Okay, never mind, I could use a tow.”

 

“Why didn’t you mention that before?” Stiles demanded, even as Scott dragged them both through the station, locking doors to slow Jackson down.

 

“Because I didn’t know if Matt was going to come back and find out what I am!” Gillian replied with a grunt when she floated into a wall after Scott released her too quickly.

 

“Sorry,” Scott muttered, pulling them into a room with a heavy metal door and a bolt on the door. They stared at the door, waiting, but Jackson never came. “You two can fight this out later, we need to find out what’s happening and get out of here.” A yell echoed through the building and they all looked at each other, worried. He nudged Gillian over next to a chair and slung Stiles down onto it. “Don’t move.” Stiles and Gillian both stared at him. “You know what I mean,” he said before darting away.

 

“Awesome,” Stiles muttered at the wall. After a long moment, he glanced over at Gillian. “Any other tricks up your sleeve?”

 

Gillian slowly lifted her head and grinned down at him. “A few.” She cast the levitation spell on Stiles and he floated up out of the chair.

 

“Great! Now how do we move?”

 

“With a wind spell. I couldn’t use it earlier, because I couldn’t lift my head enough to see so I could steer,” she explained. “Let’s go get your dad, huh, kiddo?”

 

“Onward!” he said, pointing the way. They were silent as they navigated the halls, keeping a sharp eye out for Matt and the kanima, but there was no one there. Patrick’s yells grew louder until they floated into the room just as he tore a bracket from the wall. Gillian spotted Matt just as he ran into the room, gun raised, and threw her hands out towards him, chanting a repulsion spell, throwing him against the bars of the cell Mrs. McCall was trapped in, his head clanging off the bars.

 

“Gillian?” Patrick asked.

 

“Hey, Pat,” Gillian greeted, gently lowering herself the ground, groaning in annoyance when her legs gave out and she sat down on the linoleum. “Fucker. When the hell is this stuff going to wear off?”

 

“It’ll take another hour before—“ Stiles started before a low growl interrupted him.

 

Derek stepped into the room, eyes glowing red, face twisted into beta form. “Where is he?”

 

A hiss echoed in the room and the kanima stepped out of the shadows, yowling. Derek roared and charged. Through the chaos of the fight, Gillian spotted Matt stirring and started chanting a binding spell. She motioned to Stiles then to Matt and, slowly, his voice joined with hers. Once Gillian felt Stiles’s magic pin Matt, she shifted her focus to the kanima, pinning him against the bars of Mrs. McCall’s cell.

 

Scott raced into the room in beta form, skidding to a stop when he saw Stiles and Gillian holding Matt and Jackson.

 

“Scott!” Mrs. McCall called, moving to the corner away from Matt and reaching a hand out to him. Scott didn’t turn. “Scott! Are you okay?” she asked tearfully. “Scott!”

 

He slowly turned to face her and she pulled back away from the bars, breath catching in her chest. “No,” she gasped, backing away, hands to her face. Scott looked away. “No.”

 

“Melissa!” Derek called, pushing himself up from behind the desk and approaching the cell. “Listen to me, Scott wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s your son, _think_ about this. He’s been trying so hard to keep you and everyone else safe. _Trust him._ ”

 

“Well, well, well,” a voice echoed through the room. “Two werewolves, two witches, and a kanima, ripe for the taking.”

 

“Gerard, don’t,” Scott begged, shifting back to human. “Gillian and Stiles never hurt anyone.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Gerard replied, eying Gillian. “I know an Owens witch when I see one. Killers, all of them. How long is the trail of blood in your family, witch?”

 

Gillian wished that she could risk releasing Jackson to tear Gerard limb from limb.

 

“Stop! She can’t even defend herself without releasing Jackson,” Scott growled.

 

“Stiles, take over Jackson,” Patrick ordered and they all turned to see him pointing the gun at Matt.

 

Stiles glanced at Gillian and she nodded. As soon as Stiles’s focus shifted to Jackson, Gillian shakily climbed to her feet to face Gerard. “You know nothing about my family, _hunter_ ,” she snarled. “You take half-truths and rumor and twist them to fit your _code_.” She spat at his feet. “This town and the Hale pack territory are under mine and my family’s protection. If you or your kin step foot within their borders again, you will see just what a witch can do when provoked. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Now see here—“

“Do I make myself _clear_?” she demanded.

 

“As crystal,” Gerard conceded through grit teeth.

 

“I’ll give you twelve hours to pack up and get out,” Gillian informed him. “If you and your family is still here after those twelve hours are up, I will _not_ be so kind.”

 

Gerard gave a mocking bow and stormed from the room. Gillian slumped against the desk, panting. “Keep hold of Jackson a little bit longer, Stiles,” she said quietly, meeting Patrick’s eyes across the room. “Scott, go find a pair of cuffs for Matty boy. Derek, I’m going to need you to go get Deaton. I’m going to need his help.” Everyone stared at her for a moment. “Go!” she ordered before pulling out her phone to call Aunt Frances.

 

*

 

_October 31 st, 1994_

It’s not hard to recognize the patterns she’s falling into. She remembers coming home after Michael died to find Sally curled up in bed, tissues scattered near the trash can, her hair greasy from not taking a shower in days.

 

She can’t seem to make herself stop, though. She really does miss feeling that tiny body inside her. There’s a part of her that will always wonder ‘what if?’ What if she’d brought him home with her? What if she’d taken the chance and raised him herself? What if she let Sally and the aunts help her raise him? What if she completely screwed him up because she couldn’t deal with her own issues while taking care of him?

 

Gillian sighs and rolls over just as the sheet over her head moves and Sally slides into bed with her.

 

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” Sally says quietly, rubbing Gillian’s arm.

 

“I can’t,” Gillian chokes out through fresh tears. “Not yet. Some day, but not—not now.”

 

Sally reels her in and Gillian buries her face in her sister’s shirt. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. In the meantime, you need to get out of bed and brush your goddamn teeth, because your breath stinks.”

 

A surprised laugh escapes Gillian at her own words being used against her and Sally grins with her. “There’s that smile. Come on, the girls are making cookies and we’re official taste-testers. Brush your teeth, though, you don’t want them keeling over from the smell, right?”

 

Gillian tosses the sheet off and kicks lightly at Sally. “Get outta here, you comedian. I’ll be down in a bit.”

 

Sally laughs and stands up. “I’m glad you’re home, Gilly bean.”

 

“Me, too,” Gillian replies, smiling.

 

*

_Present_

Matt’s in a cell by the time Derek gets back with Deaton. “Hey, Alan, did you bring everything?”

 

Deaton hands over a bag with a nod. “Bay laurel, alkanet, culver’s root, and rue; clearing confusion, protection from snakes, purification, and remembrance, right?”

 

“So I’m told,” Gillian replied, dropping the herbs into the mortar Deaton had brought, as well, and setting to work grinding them into a powder.

 

“Will this cure him?” Derek asked. He’s pacing the room between Matt’s cell and where Jackson’s being held across the room, hisses escaping both of them whenever Derek gets near.

 

“No, not cure,” Gillian replied. “Think about the uses for the herbs: clarity, protection, purification, remembrance. I’m helping him gain control of himself when he’s in this form. I’m taking Matt’s control of him away.”

 

Derek sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Auntie Bean.” Across the room, Stiles and Scott choked and Derek shot them a glare, daring them to say a word. Scott looked away, but Stiles held up his hands and grinned. Gillian had a feeling he’d be bringing it up later.

 

“You can pay me back in babysitting later,” Gillian informed him, giving him her own grin.

 

“How is that a payment, again?” Derek asked with a hint of a smile.

 

“You haven’t seen Lilah since you and Laura left,” Gillian said gleefully. “She’s not going to let you leave her sight for a while.”

 

“Lilah?” Patrick questioned as he leaned his hip against the desk Gillian was using.

 

“My daughter,” Gillian replied, lifting the pestle to check the mixture. It wasn’t quite fine enough, so she went back to grinding.

 

“Stiles has a sister?” Patrick asked, eyes wide.

 

“Yup, adorable little redhead,” Derek answered with a gleeful grin in Stiles’s direction. “5-years-old, asks incessant questions.” Stiles gulped.

 

Gillian smacked Derek’s arm. “Stop that! She’s not that bad!”

 

“She kept asking Kylie how she got the hickeys on her neck,” Derek reminded Gillian. “Even after Kylie and Laura _and_ Althea told her to stop asking, it was an adult thing, she still wouldn’t leave it alone.”

 

“Okay, so maybe she _can_ be that bad,” Gillian allowed, checking the powder again then nodded in satisfaction. “There. Keep holding him until I say so, Stiles,” she instructed.

 

“No! You get away from him, bitch,” Matt yelled from his cell. “Don’t!”

 

“Shut up, Daehler,” Patrick barked. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Do you _really_ want to add to it?”

 

Matt fell silent and Gillian moved as close to Jackson as she dared, Derek keeping pace with her, a low warning growl rumbling out of his chest. “Careful, Gill,” he said quietly.

 

“Stiles has him,” Gillian replied, meeting Jackson’s eyes. The feral reptilian gaze made her want to shiver, but she steeled her spine. “Trust us.” Derek sighed but subsided. Gillian quietly chanted the spell to activate the herbs, poured the powder into her palm, and then blew it into Jackson’s face.

 

They all watched nervously as he inhaled then blinked. Slowly, the scales faded away until only his eyes were different before they also shifted back to human. He blinked around at them, eyes darting around the room. He looked down at himself and a blush swept over his cheeks. “Someone want to bring me some clothes?”

 

*

 

_March 2002_

Gillian sighs and stretches luxuriously on her lounge chair by the hotel pool. It felt wonderful being somewhere warm during the winter. Then again, just about anywhere south of Massachusetts was bound to be warmer than the winters she’d grown up with. Of course, the fact that this was _Hawaii_ helped a lot.

 

She’s contemplating setting aside her book to take a dip in the pool when a waitress collides with a passing guest, spilling a cold, _cold_ drink all over Gillian’s feet.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the waitress exclaims, yanking a towel off her belt and crouching down to wipe off Gillian’s feet.

 

“It’s okay,” Gillian assures her, reaching out to grasp her wrist gently. “So my toes are a little cold, I’ll survive, no harm done.”

 

The waitress looks up at Gillian, dark eyes wide and anxious. “I’ll get you a drink, on the house,” she offers, glancing between Gillian’s eyes, her cleavage, and her mouth. She blushes and looks down at the towel she was wringing then back up at Gillian through her lashes.

 

Gillian smiles, slow and flirtatious. “How about your name and number and we’ll call it even?”

 

“Oh,” the waitress says quietly, biting her lower lip in indecision.

 

“If you’d rather not—“

 

“No!” the waitress protests then cringes, looking around. “It’s just…you’re a guest and…”

 

“And you’re not supposed to hook up with guests,” Gillian fills in. “Well, I’m not entirely satisfied with the room service here. Do you have a recommendation for another hotel nearby?”

 

“Oh,” the waitress says again, smiling. “I don’t know about a hotel, but my name’s Althea Kapule.”

 

“Althea,” she murmurs, testing the name on her tongue. “I’m Gillian.”

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian and Derek followed Stiles and Patrick through the Stilinski house into the kitchen. Patrick set about making a pot of coffee, completely silent, while Stiles, Derek, and Gillian sat down at the kitchen table. Coffee grinds pattered to the floor and Patrick stopped, hands braced on the counter, shoulders tight.

 

“Dad?” Stiles asked hesitantly, starting to stand.

 

Gillian pushed him back into his chair and went over to nudge Patrick toward the table. “I’ll get the coffee. You two need to talk,” she said gently.

 

“Why are you here, Gillian?” Patrick asked, looking up at her.

 

“Stiles,” Gillian answered. “Something he did called me.”

 

“That man, Gerard, he called you a witch,” Patrick recalled, looking over at Stiles. “Both of you.”

 

“We are,” Gillian replied quietly, nudging Patrick away more firmly.

 

He finally sighed and took Gillian’s abandoned seat. “So, talk. Tell me what I need to know.”

 

“Derek and Scott are werewolves,” Stiles explained.

 

“Judging by Melissa’s reaction, she didn’t know about it,” Patrick said wryly.

 

“It’s a… fairly recent addition to his genetic code, yes,” Stiles replied hesitantly.

 

“Wait, was that the night we were looking for the other half of Laura’s body and found you?” Patrick asked, incredulous.

 

Gillian’s grip on the carafe she held loosened and it fell into the sink, shattering. Derek was by her side before Stiles or Patrick could blink. “Gilly?” he asked, concern in his voice.

 

Gillian took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. “Deaton didn’t tell me she’d been cut in half,” she explained shakily.

 

Derek drew in a sharp breath and pulled Gillian into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

 

Shaking her head, Gillian squeezed Derek tight for a moment before letting go. “Kylie’s going to be devastated when I tell her.”

 

“She doesn’t know yet?” Derek asked, staring at Gillian.

 

“I… haven’t really talked to the family since I got here,” Gillian confessed. “I talked to Tonia after I landed and Aunt Frances, when I needed her to look up the cure for kanimas, but my phone’s been off, for the most part.” Wincing a little, she pulled her phone from her pocket and turned it back on. “Sorry about the carafe, I’ll buy a new one. You three go ahead and talk, I need to make a phone call. If you need me, I’ll be in the den.”

 

Patrick waved her off and she made her way through the house to the well-remembered room lined with books. Taking a deep breath, she called home.

 

“Gillian Marie Owens,” Sally scolded when she picked up.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gillian cut in before Sally could begin her tirade. “Someone needed me. I couldn’t not leave. Is she mad at me?”

 

A sigh gusted over the line. “No, she gets it. Lilah, on the other hand…” Sally trailed off.

 

“Damn it, her recital,” Gillian cursed, realization dawning.

 

“Yep and she was sad her mommy wasn’t there to see her dance,” Sally said calmly, more guilt-inducing than any rant ever could hoped to be.

 

Gillian groaned and sank down onto the couch. “Thea explained?”

 

“You mean explained why her wife took off Goddess knows where in the middle of the night?” Sally asked.

 

“Damn it, Sal,” Gillian snapped. “He needed me!”

 

“He who? Derek?”

 

Gillian sighed and fell back against the back of the couch. “My son, Stiles.”

 

“What the hell is a Stiles?”

 

A laugh escaped Gillian. “His name is Przemysław.”

 

“Gesundheit,” Sally replied with a laugh.

 

“Exactly,” Gillian said with an answering laugh.

 

“So where did the Stiles come from?”

 

“His last name is Stilinski,” Gillian explained. “I think Pat, his adopted dad, said something about his best friend when he was a kid not being able to pronounce his name, so she just called him Stiles and it… stuck.”

 

“Is he a witch?” Sally asked quietly.

 

“Seems to be. He used rowan, Sal,” Gillian murmured, nodding to herself at Sally’s hiss of surprise. “I couldn’t not come. There’s only one reason for us to use rowan.”

 

“Werewolves.”

 

“Yeah. His best friend was bitten a couple months ago, the same night Laura was killed.”

 

Sally hissed in another sharp breath. “We’re coming,” she whispered fiercely.

 

“Sal—“

 

“No, don’t argue with me. We _are_ coming.”

 

Gillian sighed and closed her eyes. “Okay. See you when you get here. Frances knows the way.”

 

“See you soon, Gilly-bean.”

 

“Bye, Sal.” Gillian said before hanging up. “Great.”

 

“Think any of the clan is going to stay behind?” Derek asked and Gillian jolted upright, eyes flying open, with a small shriek. She scowled at Derek’s smirk.

 

“Not once the rest of them find out about Stiles,” she answered with a tired sigh.

 

“Only Frances and Thea knew about him, right?” he asked, walking over to sit next to her on the couch.

 

“Now Sally does,” she replied, leaning into his shoulder with a sigh. “I missed Lilah’s recital. Thea’s going to tear me a new one when she gets here.”

 

“She’ll understand,” he said softly as he wrapped an arm around Gillian’s shoulders and pulled her closer.

 

“I miss them already,” she confessed, eyelids drooping from exhaustion. Between the fear and adrenaline of being paralyzed and the power she expended helping Jackson, she’s surprised she hadn’t fallen asleep on her feet long before now.

 

“Me, too,” Derek whispered into her hair.

 

She snorted skeptically. “Bet you don’t miss Lilah begging for puppy rides.”

 

He groaned out a laugh. “You’d be surprised.”

 

*

_August 2004_

Gillian ends up extending her stay in Hawaii for another couple years, finding a house to rent by the sea. It’s not quite the house she grew up in, but it’s wonderful to fall asleep to the soft susurrus of the ocean outside her door again, pleasantly exhausted and aching, with Althea curled into her side.

 

All these years, she thought she knew love; thought she knew what it felt like to be in love, to know her lover so deeply they had no more secrets. Life with Althea is laughter, honesty, passion, comfort; its _home_. Her heart still aches for Massachusetts, she still misses Sally, Gary, Aunt Frances, Aunt Jet, and the girls, but, most days, she thinks she could be happy in Hawaii with Althea.

 

In the middle of the night, anguish pierces her heart, making her sit up with a gasp. “Sally,” she whispers, clambering out of bed.

 

“Gilly?” Althea mumbles, puzzled.

 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” Gillian says, leaning over to kiss Althea softly. “I’ll be back soon.” She stumbles her way into the living room of the bungalow to the phone, cursing when she stubs her toe on the couch. The phone rings just as her hand lands on the receiver. “Sally?”

 

“Gilly,” Sally sobs.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Toe-Tonia,” Sally gasps.

 

Gillian sits down on the couch, taking a deep breath. She jumps when a hand touches her shoulder, but she reaches up and clings to Althea. “Sally, I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? In.” Gillian breathes in loudly. “Out.” She breathes out into the receiver. She keeps coaching Sally through calming breaths until her cries quiet down. “Talk to me, tell me what happened.”

 

“Tonia and her boyfriend were out on a date,” Sally explains, voice trembling slightly. “A dog darted out into the road and he swerved so he wouldn’t hit it and lost control. They hit a car and they both went flying. Tonia landed on the curb on her back. She hasn’t woken up yet.

 

“I _told_ her not to go with him if he was driving that death trap of a motorcycle. I _told_ her that she could only go if he drove his mom’s car. I _told_ her—“ Sally breaks off, crying again.

 

“Shh, Sal, she’s going to be okay,” Gillian soothes, fighting back her own tears, fighting to be the strong, supportive sister that Sally needs right now. “Nothing can keep that girl down for long. She’ll be okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I’m coming.”

 

“Okay,” Sally whispers, breathing deeply. “Okay. Call me when you know when you’ll be here?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“B—see you soon,” Sally says.

 

“As soon as I can,” Gillian confirms before hanging up.

 

“Gilly?” Althea asks, squeezing her shoulder gently.

 

A sob escapes Gillian and Althea’s on the couch next to her, drawing her in for a hug. “Tonia was in a motorcycle accident,” she manages to gasp out between sobs. “She hasn’t woken up yet. Goddess, Thea, Sally’s lost so much, I don’t want her to lose her baby girl, too.”

 

Althea combs her fingers through Gillian’s hair soothingly. “Remember what you told Sally? Tonia’s strong, she’ll pull through this. We’ll be there for her every step of the way.”

 

Gillian pulls back and stares up at Althea. “We?”

 

“What, you thought I was going to let you leave me behind?” Althea asks with a smile. “No way, babe, I’m coming with you.”

 

Gillian smiles and kisses Althea slowly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” Althea pulls Gillian close for a moment before drawing away. “I’ll pack; you find a flight to Massachusetts.”

 

Gillian steals one last kiss before pulling away, determined to find the earliest flight back.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

Gillian hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep until her phone rings, waking her and Derek up from where they’d fallen asleep on the couch, tangled up together. “’Lo?” she croaked into the phone.

 

“Hey, babe.”

 

“Thea,” Gillian greeted on a soft, happy sigh. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

 

“Sh, it’s okay, I get it,” Althea soothed. “Stiles needed you.”

 

“Yeah,” Gillian answered, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Is Lilah mad at me?”

 

“Not really,” Althea replied. “She’s disappointed, but not mad. I explained to her that her big brother needed you.”

 

“We’ll see if a five-year-old can understand when you all get here,” Gillian murmured.

 

“Speaking of, we’re on a layover in Salt Lake,” Althea informed her. “We should be boarding in a few minutes, hopefully we’ll be in Sacramento in a couple hours.”

 

“We’ll be there to pick you up,” Gillian said. “Goddess, I’ve missed you.”

 

“We’ve missed you, too, see you soon.”

 

“We’ll be waiting by the luggage carousels. See you soon,” Gillian murmured then hung up. Sighing, she laid her head back on Derek’s shoulder.

 

“I almost feel sorry for Stiles,” Derek observed quietly.

 

She looked up to see a hint of smirk on his face. “Why?”

 

“He’s going to get ambushed when they meet him,” he explained.

 

“Are you saying my family is overwhelming?” she asked, fighting back a smile.

 

“Yes,” he answered firmly. They laughed quietly together for a moment before Gillian sighed and climbed to her feet. “Better go let Stiles and Pat know they’ll be here soon. Wanna come with?”

 

“Yeah, we’re gonna need another big car,” he pointed out, standing up and stretching.

 

“I’ll call the rental company, see if they have a van or something.”

 

“By the way,” Derek said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You _had_ to get a Jeep?” he asked, grinning.

 

“Hey, I have fond memories of Jeeps, buster,” she defended, poking him in the chest.

 

He held up his hands in surrender. “Come on, better get going.”

 

“Yeah.” She laughed softly. “Gotta let Pat and Stiles know they’ll need to brace themselves.”

 

“Well, Pat anyway.”

 

Gillian eyed Derek’s smirk. “Getting some revenge on my son?”

 

“Maybe?”

 

“Just checking.”

 

*

 

_January 2005_

Rolling over with a sigh, Gillian reaches out for Althea and finds barely warm sheets. Frowning, she lifts her head and looks around the hotel suite they had booked for their honeymoon. “Thea?” she calls, voice a sleep-hoarse croak.

 

“I’m here,” Althea replies from behind Gillian. She rolls over and smiles when she sees Althea standing in the bedroom doorway wearing just her panties. Gillian takes in Althea’s familiar body in the dim light of the room, lingering on her breasts, her tattoos, the wicked smile curling her lips.

 

Althea returns the long look as she crosses to the bed, skimming out of her panties as she walks, and climbs on top of Gillian. “Morning,” she whispers, tangling her fingers with Gillian’s and nibbling at her lower lip before dipping her tongue into Gillian’s mouth.

 

Gillian moans into Althea’s mouth, taking in her taste. “Mmm, yes, it is,” she replies breathlessly against Althea’s lips, smiling at the buzz of Althea’s laugh against her mouth.

 

“First morning as Gillian Owens-Kapule,” Althea says softly, laying a line of kisses down Gillian’s neck.

 

“Backatcha, Althea Owens-Kapule,” Gillian returns with a soft moan, tilting her head back to give Althea better access.

 

Althea arranges Gillian so that their cunts are aligned and starts rocking her hips, gasping against Gillian’s leg over her shoulder.

 

“Yeah, baby,” Gillian groans, working her hips in counterpoint to Althea’s. “Fuck me, Thea.”

 

“Goddess,” Althea whimpers, head falling forward, her long dark hair trailing over her breasts.

 

Gillian reaches out, tangling her fingers in Althea’s hair and tugging gently until she leans down and kisses Gillian, breaking rhythm for long moments before she’s sitting back up, thrusting her hips against Gillian’s harder and faster.

 

Lifting her head, Gillian looks down at where their bodies work together and gasps sharply, lightly scratching her nails over Althea’s inner thighs, making her gasp as well.

 

Althea reaches down and pins Gillian to the bed with a hand on her chest, staring down into Gillian’s eyes, her own eyes flashing amber in the darkness. “Take it, baby. Fuck, it’s good. Love fucking you like this, feeling you under me.”

 

With a shattered cry, Gillian shudders under Althea, coming so hard that her breath seizes in her chest. Dimly, she hears a matching cry from Althea, feels her shifting her hips frantically against Gillian’s before she folds down on top of Gillian once more, her fingers twining in Gillian’s tangled hair. Gillian lets out a satisfied hum, trailing her hands up Althea’s sides and back down to squeeze her ass, pulling her close to draw out the last shiver of orgasm.

 

A soft sound escapes Althea as she slides over to curl into Gillian’s side. Gillian laughs softly and tilts Althea’s head up for a kiss. “Love you,” she murmurs quietly.

 

“Love you, too,” Althea whispers, rubbing her cheek against Gillian’s breast before settling.

 

They lay tangled together in bed for long, quiet moments; trading kisses occasionally, Gillian’s fingers combing through and through Althea’s hair, Althea lightly tracing random patterns on Gillian’s belly with a single claw.

 

“Something on your mind, baby?” Gillian asks eventually.

 

She looks down in time to see Althea bite her lower lip and glance up at her. “I know we just got married, but, I just.” She pauses, uncertainty in her eyes.

 

“What is it?” Gillian asks, concerned.

 

“I want a baby,” Althea confesses.

 

Gillian frowns, confused. “Stiles won’t—“

 

“Not Stiles,” Althea interrupts, sitting up to look down at Gillian directly. “I wouldn’t take him away from his family for anything in the world. I want a baby that’s just ours. It’s just…”

 

Gillian makes an encouraging noise.

 

“I can’t carry the baby, myself,” she finally says. “I had a boyfriend years ago who wanted to have kids and we tried, but I… can’t.”

 

Gillian’s quiet for a long moment, mind racing with the idea. On the one hand, she remembers very clearly what labor had been like, how painful it had been. On the other, she’ll have Althea and the rest of her family right there with her. On the other…

 

“It’s not a deal breaker if you don’t want to,” Althea rushes to explain. “I’m not going to file for a divorce if you can’t do that again. I just figured it’d be something to think—“

 

“Yes,” Gillian interrupts, grinning up at Althea.

 

“Yes?” Althea echoes, stunned.

 

“Yes,” Gillian confirms.

 

“Yes!” Althea cries, diving down to kiss Gillian hard. “Yes,” she whispers against Gillian’s lips.

 

Gillian laughs and feathers kisses over Althea’s face. “Yes.”

 

They don’t get out of bed for several more hours.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

The drive to Sacramento was fairly quiet. Occasionally, one or the other of them would laugh a little over the panicked look on Patrick’s face when they told him that the Owens clan would be descending on Beacon Hills en masse. Some relief had come when they’d mentioned that the family would be staying in a hotel, rather than expecting to stay with the Stilinskis. When Gillian had mentioned wanting to surprise Stiles, Patrick had given her a long-suffering look, but hadn’t tried to persuade her otherwise.

 

With a couple stops for fresh clothes for both of them and to check Gillian out of her motel, Derek and Gillian were on the road in plenty of time.

 

“How do you think Kylie is going to react?” Derek asked quietly as they pulled into a parking spot at the airport.

 

“To Laura’s death?” Gillian clarified, staring out the windshield as she turned off the car.

 

“Yeah,” he answered.

 

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “She might talk about The Curse, but she’s grown up with proof that it’s been broken for years.”

 

Derek sighed and climbed out of the car. They make the trek into the airport silently, stopping by the luggage carousels, both of them scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Gillian barely caught Derek turning sharply before a familiar young voice cried, “Mommy!” She spun around just in time for a tiny redheaded missile to attach itself to her legs.

 

“Lilah!” Gillian greeted, reaching down and swinging her daughter up into her arms, holding her close. “Hiya, munchkin,” she said quietly, smiling at Althea when she came up beside them, wrapping Gillian and Lilah in a hug.

 

Before Gillian can ask any questions, a smack splits the air and Gillian turns to find Kylie glaring up at a chastised Derek. “Three months, Derek Alexander Hale. You’ve been gone three months. No phone calls, no text messages, no emails, _nothing._ ”

 

“I’m—“ Derek started but Kylie held up a hand, forestalling him.

 

“Just tell me,” Kylie demanded, fear and inevitability etched on her face.

 

“She’s gone,” Derek said quietly, glancing around furtively before flashing red eyes.

 

Kylie squeezed her eyes closed, fists clenched by her sides, but the tears slipped through, anyway. Sally came up beside her and pulled her into a tight hug, staring Derek down. Derek ducked his head and backed away to start helping Gary pull luggage off the carousel.

 

Antonia rolled up next to Gillian, drawing her attention. “So? What’s he like?” she asked, elbow propped on the arm of her wheelchair, chin on her hand, an expectant look in her eyes.

 

Gillian couldn’t help sharing a laughing look with Derek. “He’s definitely my son,” she answered. “He’s brave, smart, a quick learner.” She looked over toward the aunts. “He cast a binding spell after only hearing me chanting the words.”

 

“Oh dear,” Jet murmured even as she started herding them all towards the exit. “He will definitely require some training.”

 

Gillian nodded, pointing the way toward the rental desk. “I suggest starting with defensive spells, especially if he’s going to keep being involved in the goings-on in town.”

 

“How’s the other boy doing?” Frances asked, coming up beside Gillian. “Jackson, wasn’t it?”

 

“It was and I don’t know,” Gillian answered. “Derek and I fell asleep at Pat and Stiles’s house and didn’t wake up until Thea called from Salt Lake.”

 

“Well, we’ll just have to drop by and check on him while we’re in town,” Jet said. Derek huffed a skeptical laugh from behind them. “Is there a problem, Derek, dear?”

 

“Jackson’s… a difficult boy to handle sometimes,” Derek answered.

 

“Then why did you bite him?” Sally asked sharply.

 

“Because things are going to be drawn to Beacon Hills now that there’s a wolf pack here, again,” Derek replied tensely. “I needed a bigger pack. Unlike Scott, Jackson actually _wanted_ the bite.”

 

“How many more people have you bitten?” Frances questioned.

 

Derek was silent, lips pressed into a tense line.

“Derek Hale, you answer me, or you won’t like what I’ll do,” Frances commanded, sending a lick of power in his direction.

 

“Three,” Derek finally answered mutinously.

 

“Hecate save us from headstrong baby alphas,” Frances muttered, rolling her eyes.

 

Derek growled quietly, but didn’t counter her.

 

*

 

_June 2005_

Gillian is curled up on a lounge chair with Althea under the trellis, their hands linked together over her belly, when Kylie comes out of the house, glancing back a few times as she approaches. “Aunt Gilly, there’s a couple people here to see you,” she says, curiosity in her bright blue eyes.

 

Frowning, Gillian glances at Althea, sets down her book, and pushes to her feet. She follows Kylie into the living room where two dark-haired figures are sitting with Sally. There’s something vaguely familiar about the dark-haired woman sitting in the chair across from Sally, sipping at the mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. A movement on the couch nearby brings Gillian’s focus to the teenage boy hunched there. She glances between the pair until the boy lifts his head and meets her eyes. “Derek,” Gillian murmurs, pleasantly surprised, and crosses the room to pull him into a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Miss Owens,” the woman says, a growl threading through her words.

 

Gillian pulls away from Derek, keeping hold of one of his hands, and looks closer at the woman. “Laura?” She nods tightly.

 

“They’re seeking asylum, Gillian,” Sally puts in from her corner, watching them closely. “They said they knew you.”

 

“Yes,” Gillian confirms, spine stiffening at the doubt in Sally’s eyes. “Their family, their _pack,_ took me in ten years ago.”

 

Sally’s eyes dart to Gillian, confused. “Ten—. When you left.”

 

“Yes.” Gillian reaches up and rubs her hand over Derek’s shoulder, ignoring Laura’s growl. “What happened? Where’s your mother?”

 

Derek’s eyes clench shut and a whimper escapes him. “She’s dead,” Laura grates out, eyes flashing red. “Derek, Peter, and I are the only survivors. Well, Peter marginally so.”

 

“Where is he?” Sally asks.

 

“Still in Beacon Hills,” Laura admits tiredly. “He’s catatonic, his burns won’t heal.”

 

“When did this happen?” Gillian asks.

 

“Three months ago. On the eclipse.”

 

Gillian and Sally gasp, darting glances at each other. “I’m so sorry,” Gillian says, pulling Derek in for another hug and holding her hand out to Laura. “Who did this? Hunters?”

 

Laura shakes her head as she grasps Gillian’s hand. “I don’t know. Probably, but I don’t know who, specifically. Derek and I weren’t even home,” she admits, voice breaking. “We’d snuck out to get drunk while we could. We came back and the house was in flames and any possible scent was covered up by the smoke and the firemen and sheriffs’ deputies.”

 

Gillian closes her eyes and presses her forehead against Derek’s temple. “Even Jeremy?” she asks.

 

Derek shrugs her off and storms outside without saying a word, leaving Gillian staring after him with tears in her eyes.

 

“He hasn’t said a word since the fire,” Laura explains quietly. “We drove all over for a while, making sure no one was following us. There were a couple that managed to find us, but we shook them off. Last week, he gave me a paper with your address on it and the word asylum.”

 

“You can stay with us as long as you need,” Gillian assures her, staring implacably at Sally when she shoots Gillian a skeptical look.

 

“We don’t—“

 

“Could you excuse us a moment?” Sally requests, standing and jerking her head towards the kitchen.

 

“Sure,” Laura answers, settling deeper into her chair.

 

Gillian rolls her eyes and follows her sister out of the room.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Sally demands, rounding on Gillian, arms crossed over her chest.

 

“I’m repaying a favor,” Gillian replies quietly with a glance over her shoulder when she hears the front door open and close. “They helped me when I needed it, now I’m helping them.”

 

“I don’t know them, Gilly,” Sally says, walking over to the window to look out over the backyard. “They’re probably not the same people you remember.”

 

Gillian steps up beside her to see Laura has joined Derek standing on the jetty, staring out over the water. “I know they’re not. Derek was 8 when I met him, Laura was 10. They made me want to come home, but at the same time, I wanted to stay with them forever. I wanted to see them grow up where they were meant to be.

 

“They’re orphans now, just like us,” she says sadly. “I can’t turn them away, Sal, I won’t.”

 

Sally sighs and Gillian knows she’s won. “They can take the attic room, for now,” she concedes. “The aunts have the final say on this.”

 

A relieved laugh escapes Gillian and she grabs her sister in a tight hug. “Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

 

“I might,” Sally says with a quiet laugh. “You didn’t see the looks Kylie was giving Laura.”

 

Gillian grins, looking back out the window. Kylie’s sitting on the chair next to Althea, seemingly talking to her aunt, but her head keeps turning towards the pair on the jetty. Althea looks towards the house and gives an exaggerated sigh. Chuckling, Gillian grabs Sally’s hand and pulls her towards the backyard. “Come on, let’s go put Kylie out of her misery of premature longing. Laura! Derek!”

 

The Hale siblings turn at her call and approach them, wariness making Laura’s shoulders tight with tension, while Derek just stares down at the grass.

 

“As long as you need,” Sally tells them and Derek looks up, wide-eyed. “The aunts will be back in a couple days, but I’m sure they’ll agree with us.”

 

The siblings blink and stare. “They’re still alive?” Laura asks. “Frances wasn’t exactly young when she visited ten years ago.”

 

Gillian and Sally laugh. “I’m pretty sure they’ll still be here when we’re all gone,” Gillian replies. “They’ve looked the same for as long as I’ve known them, and they’ll probably stay the same for the next hundred years.”

 

*

 

_Present_

 

The ride back to Beacon Hills was… chaotic, to say the least. Derek and Antonia had crowded into the backseat with Lilah’s booster seat; Antonia was trying to tease Derek out of the brood he’d settled into since Frances chastised him at the airport, while Lilah was attempting to retell her recital from beginning to end, as well as she could remember, scolding Antonia or Derek when they got too loud and interrupted her.

 

“Still think you missed this?” Althea asked teasingly.

 

Gillian looked over at her with a blinding grin. “Every second since I left.”

 

Althea laughed softly and took Gillian’s hand. “Mommy! You’re not listening!” Lilah cried from the backseat.

 

“Of course, I am, sweetheart,” Gillian assured her. “You said Tommy tripped over Sarah’s foot and fell on his butt.”

 

Lilah’s delighted laughter filled the car, making all of them smile. She smacked her hands together in illustration. “ _Right_ on his _butt_.”

 

“I hope Mama got that on video,” Gillian said, glancing over at Althea.

 

“Every second of it,” Althea confirmed with some glee.

 

Tommy had bullied Lilah and her best friend, Sarah, ever since they’d started pre-school. Gillian looked forward to watching the footage with gleeful vengeance. She couldn’t have hoped for better if she’d been there to spell his shoe untied.

 

*

 

_June 2005_

There’s a distinct feeling of déjà vu when Gillian steps onto the landing of the attic bedroom to find Derek curled up under the sheet on his bed. They’ve been here for nearly a week and he still hasn’t spoken. Gillian’s going to change that.

 

She lifts the sheet and slides in next to him, ignoring his half-hearted growl. “Hey, Der Bear.” He huffs a sigh, lips pressing together in what Gillian is pretty sure he’d deny is a pout. “The aunts will be here soon. Don’t you want to come down and meet them?”

 

He huffs again and Gillian rolls her eyes. “You’re going to have to get out of bed, sometime. Even if it’s only to brush your goddamn teeth because your breath smells.” He stares at her, frowning. “Come on, you don’t want the aunts to keel over from your breath right?”

 

A hint of a smile starts tugging at his lips before he frowns and presses his lips together again. “Seriously, sweetie, at least some gum? A tic-tac? _Something_. How do you even stand it? _I’m_ dying here; I don’t know how you can stand it with your sense of smell.”

 

Finally, a laugh escapes him. It’s rusty and almost silent, but it’s there and Gillian smiles triumphantly. Downstairs, something crashes to the floor and Derek’s smile turns smug. “Laura dropped something, didn’t she?” Gillian asks.

 

He nods and rolls over to hug her. “Thank you,” he says, his voice barely a breath of sound.

 

She holds him close, hand combing through his hair and down his back. “Any time. Besides, I couldn’t have you wasting away. There’s someone who’s going to want to meet you in about, oh six months.”

 

He jerks back, staring at her, nostrils flaring as he takes in her scent. “If I have to help deliver this one, too, you’re going to owe me big time,” he warns her.

 

Gillian laughs as squeals echo up from below followed quickly by a stampede of footsteps up the stairs. “You realize you just jinxed yourself?” she manages to ask just before the rest of the family flies into the room, talking excitedly about cribs and clothes and baby showers.

 

*

 

_Present_

 

The Owens clan managed to arrive at the Stilinski house before Stiles got home from school, even with taking time to drop off their luggage at the hotel. Patrick opened the door at Gillian’s knock and gestured them inside, staring in shock as they all filed in, Gary and Derek bringing up the rear carrying Antonia and her wheelchair, respectively.

 

“Pat, this is my family,” Gillian introduced. “My wife, Althea; our daughter, Lilah; my sister, Sally; her husband, Gary; Sally’s daughters, Kylie and Antonia; my aunt, Jet; and I’m sure you remember Frances.”

 

Patrick stared around at them, blinking a little. “I’m sensing a theme, here,” he muttered, gaze darting between the Owens women.

 

Jet laughed and reached out to lead Patrick unerringly toward the kitchen. “It’s a genetic peculiarity to our line,” she explained. “I won’t bore you with details, unless you want me to.”

 

A soft laugh escaped Patrick and he ruffled the hair on the back of his head. “Not really, but Stiles will. He tends to… fixate on random things.”

 

Jet gave a dismissive wave and picked up the kettle from the stove, frowning when she waved it back and forth, apparently dissatisfied with the water level inside. “He’ll learn, either way, it’s his heritage. The boy has too much power to be left to his own devices.” She hummed softly to herself as she filled the kettle in the sink.

 

“So he _is_ a witch, like you,” Patrick wondered, glancing between Jet and Gillian, who had followed them and stood leaning in the doorway.

 

“Oh my, yes,” Jet answered as she turned the fire on under the kettle without touching the knob.

 

“Jet,” Gillian warned, watching Patrick’s wide-eyed stare.

 

“Oh, pish, Gilly-bean,” Jet chided. “The man’s going to have things floating about the house soon enough, he’s got to start somewhere.”

 

“It’s alright,” Patrick assured them. “If I didn’t run screaming from those… binding spells?” he glanced questioningly between Jet and Gillian, continuing when they nodded. “A little telekinesis isn’t going to send me into hysterics.”

 

“Dad?” Stiles said from the hallway behind Gillian. “What’s with the cars out front?”

 

“Is that him?” Lilah asked excitedly from the living room quickly followed by the patter of little feet and the heavier tread of bigger feet following her.

 

Gillian turned to see Stiles and Lilah staring at each other, Althea hovering behind Lilah. She could almost feel the sibling bond snap into place as they locked eyes for a long moment. Stiles staggered a little and Gillian reached out to steady him. “What was that?” he gasped.

 

“It’s the sibling bond,” Jet explained gently, coming up behind Gillian. “Every witch in our family with an ounce of power can feel their siblings, parents, and children.”

 

“That’s how you knew to come,” Stiles said, looking away from Lilah to Gillian.

 

“Partially,” Gillian admitted. “Rowan is a powerful tool for witches, when you used it, it loosened whatever had been holding your magic in check and the power you unleashed sent a backlash through our bond to me.”

 

Stiles scrubbed his hands over his hair, eyes a little wild. “Stiles?” Patrick asked, easing around Gillian and Jet to get to his son.

 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” he paused, looking around at the women crowding the hallway and the curious faces peeking around the corner from the living room. “It’s a lot to take in.”

 

Lilah stepped up to Stiles and tugged on his pant leg. When he looked down at her, she crooked her finger at him, beckoning him closer. He glanced briefly at Gillian and knelt down when she nodded encouragingly. “Hi,” he greeted. “I’m Stiles.”

 

“I’m Lilah. Stiles is a funny name,” she observed.

 

Stiles laughed and reached out to tweak one of Lilah’s wild red curls. “Well, Stiles is my nickname. My _real_ name is Przemysław, but my mom called me Przemek.”

 

Lilah watched Stiles thoughtfully for a long moment. “I like Stiles best,” she finally answered.

 

Stiles grinned. “Yeah, me, too.”

 

“Are you my brother?” Lilah asked, edging a little bit closer to peer at his face.

 

“Uh, kinda?” Stiles replied, clearly at a loss. “I’m your half-brother.”

 

She looked Stiles over from head to toe, even going so far as to circle him a couple times. “You don’t _look_ like you’re only half.”

 

Gillian clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh too loudly and draw Lilah’s ire.

 

Stiles, at least, managed to rein his laugh down to just a grin. “Half-brother or half-sister means we only have one parent in common. For us, that means we have the same mom but different dads.”

 

“Oh,” Lilah murmured, glancing between Gillian and Stiles, obviously thinking hard about this new information. “But if Mommy’s your mommy, why weren’t you with us on the island?”

 

“Because I was adopted,” Stiles answered simply.

 

“What’s ‘dop-ped?” Lilah questioned.

 

Stiles looked stumped while just about all the adults in the house had sudden coughing fits. Stiles eyed the adults he could see narrowly. “When I was born, your mommy gave me to another family to take care of me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because,” Stiles said slowly, searching for an answer.

 

Gillian took pity on him and crouched down so she was on Lilah’s level, drawing her daughter’s attention. “Because I didn’t know how to take care of him,” she answered. “I didn’t have anyone else to help me like I did with you. I had just gotten away from a very bad man and he hurt me very much. I needed to get better and I knew I couldn’t do that and take care of Stiles at the same time. So I gave him to Pat and his wife, Claudia, because I knew they could give him everything he needed that I couldn’t.”

 

Lilah blinked silently for a long moment before turning to Patrick. “So you’re Pat.”

 

Patrick nodded and bowed to her. “At your service, little lady.”

 

Lilah giggled then frowned, looking around. “Where’s Claudia?”

 

Stiles and Patrick both flinched and Gillian winced, shooting Stiles and Patrick apologetic looks as she scooped Lilah into her arms. “She’s gone, sweetheart. You remember when Mr. Tuffy left us?”

 

Tears gathered in Lilah’s eyes and Gillian glanced over her shoulder to Althea who quickly stepped up next to Gillian, pressing Lilah between them. “Yeah,” Lilah answered, voice quivering.

 

“She’s with him up in the clouds,” Althea explained gently.

 

With a sniffle, Lilah looked over at Stiles and Patrick before holding her arms out to Stiles. Stiles blinked in shock, looking to Gillian and Althea for confirmation. Gillian shrugged and nodded, silently telling him it was his choice. He stepped forward and took Lilah from Gillian, stumbling a little when Lilah wrapped her arms and legs around him, but Patrick was there to steady him.

 

“Mr. Tuffy will take care of her,” Lilah mumbled into Stiles’s shoulder. “Like he took care of me.”

 

Tears sprang to Stiles’s eyes and he buried his face in Lilah’s curls. “And she’ll take care of Mr. Tuffy like you took care of him,” he replied.

 

*

_December 2005_

 

Gillian’s children seem determined to come early and with only Derek around to help her. Once again, Gillian is home alone with Derek. This time, however, he’s able to get her into the car and to the hospital, frantically calling Sally and Althea to let them know what’s happening while the ER nurses are helping her into a wheelchair for the trip up to the delivery room. She keeps a tight hold on Derek’s hand, refusing to let go as they make their way into the elevator.

 

“Gilly,” Derek protests weakly.

 

“You were there for Stiles, you might as well be here for Lilah,” she replies with a wan smile.

 

“I was _eight_.”

 

“Now you’re 18. Congratulations, you’re moving up in the world, kiddo,” Gillian quips back before crying out at the contraction that overtakes her. “At least you know what’s happening this time around,” she gasps once the contraction has passed. Behind her, one of the nurses stifles a laugh. “And quit glaring at the nurse, it’s not her fault my children like you.”

 

Lilah Jacqueline Owens-Kapule is born at 5 p.m. December 26th with her mama and Derek as witnesses. Gillian never lets go of Derek’s hand, nor Althea’s, once she arrives, still in her paramedic uniform from work.

 

*

 

_Present_

The kettle whistled, making the group in the hallway jump. “Ah! Tea!” Jet said, bustling back into the kitchen.

 

“Want to come meet the rest of the family?” Gillian asked Stiles hesitantly.

 

“They’re kind of overwhelming, sometimes,” Althea warned.

 

Stiles glanced at Patrick, who shrugged. “Up to you, son.”

 

After a moment, Stiles nodded. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

 

Gillian smiled. “You’ve met Lilah, this is my wife, Althea,” she began, motioning to each one in turn. “Aunt Jet’s making a mess of the kitchen.”

 

“I heard that!” Jet called back cheerfully.

 

Stiles laughed and followed Gillian out into the living room. “My sister, Sally; her husband, Gary; my darling nieces, Kylie and Antonia.”

 

“Tonia’s fine,” Antonia said, smiling. Stiles nodded, eyes flicking to her wheelchair and away.

 

“Aunt Frances and, of course, Derek, you know,” Gillian finished.

 

“So how do you know Derek?” Stiles asked, eying the man in question.

 

“I stayed with his family for a little while when I was pregnant with you,” Gillian answered, grinning at Derek’s warning look. “He liked to listen to your heartbeat through my stomach when I would read out loud to you.”

 

Derek groaned and Stiles grinned, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Is that right?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Gillian confirmed. “He even helped deliver you.”

 

“Oh, man,” Stiles groaned. “You had to mention childbirth?”

 

“Trust me, it was worse to be there,” Derek replied.

 

“It wasn’t that bad!” Gillian protested. “At least with Lilah, you didn’t have to catch her when she came out.”

 

A chorus of groans filled the living room. “Nice.” “Thanks a lot, Aunt Gilly.” “ _So_ didn’t need to hear that.”

 

“Oh, shush,” Frances admonished, standing from her chair to approach Stiles. “Let me look at you,” she said as her hands settled on his shoulders. “You’ve grown into a fine boy. Hmmm, yes, eyes are a little lighter than the usual Owens brown, but that’s to be expected. Are you sure about that haircut, darling?”

 

“Uhh, it’s easy to take care of?” Stiles offered, glancing around the room at the rest of them, panic in his eyes.

 

Frances hummed skeptically. “All right,” she finally conceded. “Hold still, Przemysław, this won’t hurt a bit.”

 

“What?” Stiles’s voice cracked as a faint wind stirred Frances’s hair and her eyes fluttered closed.

 

“She’s testing your power,” Gillian explained softly. “It won’t hurt, just like she said. Just stay still.”

 

Stiles looked skeptical, but he stilled, watching Frances.

 

Finally, her eyes opened, concern and awe filling them. “Oh my, yes, you will definitely need to be trained.”

 

“How strong is he, sister?” Jet asked from the kitchen doorway.

 

“Not as strong as Sally, but close enough to be dangerous if he’s left untrained.”

 

“That’s not foreboding at all,” Stiles muttered.

 

“Shush, child,” Jet admonished. “Untrained witches are not to be trifled with. The sooner you’re trained, the safer you’ll be.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Stiles said, chastised.

 

“Come,” Frances took his hand and towed him over to the couch to sit between her and Derek. “Tell us what you’ve been up to.”

 

“It’s probably pretty boring compared to spells and werewolves,” Stiles answered.

 

“Oh, pish! Tosh! You’re family, it’ll be exciting to _us_ ,” Jet insisted.

 

Stiles thought for a moment, clearly wondering where to begin.

 

“Where did your nickname come from?” Kylie asked.

 

Stiles smiled and began, “Well, my best friend when I was little, Heather, couldn’t say my name…”

 

*

 

_November 2010_

Gillian will never know how Laura manages not to cave to Lilah’s epic teary eyes.

 

“You’re leaving?” Lilah asks, her voice tiny and tremulous.

 

Laura lifts Lilah into her arms and cuddles her close. “I have to, pup,” she says quietly. “There’s something going on in Beacon Hills. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, but it will always be my home and I need to protect it.”

 

Lilah’s lower lip trembles and almost everyone watching trembles with it, all of them fighting the urge to comfort the youngest Owens. “Okay,” Lilah finally murmurs. “But you still got me a present, right?”

 

With a laugh, Laura rubs her cheek against Lilah’s, leaving one last scent mark. “Of course! Derek’s hiding it, so if you want to find it, you’ll have to go through him.”

 

A calculating look steals over Lilah’s face as she turns to look at Derek. “Okay!”

 

Derek shoots Laura a vastly unamused look. “Thanks, Laur.”

 

“Any time, Der.”

 

*

 

_Present_

The next week passed quickly in a blur of sharing stories and knowledge with the newest member of the Owens clan. Sometimes, it seemed like Stiles was almost relieved to go to school, to get away from the constant questions. He hadn’t minded the barrage of information about his abilities; it almost felt like he was gleeful about them. But, even Gillian had to admit, her family could be overwhelmingly nosy. Especially about Stiles’s love life, which always made him blush and find a reason to leave, for some reason. Gillian wasn’t entirely sure, but she was pretty sure she’d seen him dart a look or two in Derek’s direction if he was nearby when the line of questioning turned to romance.

 

The night before the final game of the season, Stiles flopped down onto the couch next to Gillian and Althea with a long, pained sigh.

 

“Something wrong?” Gillian asked, half-asleep from Althea’s fingers running through her hair.

 

“No, not really,” Stiles answered, leaning his head back against the back of the couch. “Just… there’s this counselor at school, Ms. Morrell. Because of what happened at the station, the new principal signed me up for sessions with her. I’m kinda glad my free period is my last one of the day. The sessions have been kind of… weird and draining.”

 

“Weird how?” Althea questioned, fingers pausing in Gillian’s hair.

 

“I don’t know, like she’s trying to tell me something that I’m not hearing,” Stiles said. He scrubbed a hand over his hair then stood up. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being paranoid,” he muttered. “I’m going to go over to Scott’s to help him study.”

 

After the door of the suite closed behind Stiles, Gillian sat up and reached for her phone on the coffee table, only for Althea to catch her wrist. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Althea asked playfully.

 

“I was going to call Deaton and ask if he knows any Morrells,” Gillian explained, shooting an equally playful look over her shoulder.

 

“Uh-uh.” Althea shook her head and leaned in to start trailing kisses up Gillian’s neck. “She hasn’t said anything direct; it’ll keep another night or two. Tonight, Derek has Lilah and I haven’t had you in over a week.” She nipped at Gillian’s neck, eliciting a moan. “I want you naked and under me, writhing while I fuck you.”

 

“Goddess, Thea,” Gillian moaned, her head falling back against Althea’s shoulder when Althea’s thumb brushed over her nipple through her clothes.

 

A low laugh answered her. “Goddess Thea,” she murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

 

Gillian laughed breathlessly. “Come on, bedroom. Derek will never forgive us if we have sex on the couch where he’ll have to smell it every day.”

 

“It’ll be good for him,” Althea snickered. “Keep him humble.”

 

With a twist of her body, Gillian was astride Althea’s lap, arms bracketing her head. “You’re a bad, bad girl, Althea Owens-Kapule.”

 

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “And you love it.”

 

“I really do,” Gillian agreed, smiling even as she leaned down and kissed Althea. “Even if it gets me cold toes.”

 

Althea gasped in faux affront. “That was only the once! And I made up for it!”

 

Gillian’s laugh was low and dirty. “No, I don’t think you did.”

 

Strong hands gripped Gillian’s ass and she gasped, arms tightening around Althea, as Althea stood from the couch and carried her into the bedroom, dark brown eyes flashing amber inches away from Gillian’s face. “I’ll just have to rectify that.” The bedroom door slammed shut on Gillian’s delighted laughter.

 

*

 

_December 2010_

“Are you sure about this?” Gillian asks, leaning in Derek’s bedroom doorway, watching him pack.

 

“Laura needs me,” Derek answers simply, folding another gray Henley.

 

“Seriously? I didn’t know you had this many gray shirts,” Kylie mutters from her spot on Derek’s bed. He rolls his eyes at her and keeps packing. “Are you sure I can’t come with you? I can help!”

 

He sighs and braces his hands on the footboard, head bowed for a moment before looking up at Kylie. “Before you say anything, I know you can take care of yourself, but Laura and I have no idea what we’re dealing with out there. She’d never forgive herself if you got hurt.”

 

Kylie echoes his sigh and slumps a little, curling around a pillow she’d dragged into the room with her, probably Laura’s. “Tell her she better come home safe, okay?” she asked tremulously.

 

Derek smiles and comes around the bed to press a kiss to Kylie’s forehead. “I will.”

 

Gillian holds out her arms to Derek, who obliges her with her own hug and kiss. “You come home safe, too, you hear?”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

“Do or do not,” Gillian admonishes with a wan smile. Derek’s answering smile is just as wan.

 

Derek moves away from Gillian and crouches down by the head of his bed, meeting Althea’s eyes where she’s curled up on his pillow in fox form, a mournful look in her amber eyes. “Not going to give me any advice?” he asks. Althea regards him for a long moment then tucks her tail over her eyes. “Guess that answers that question,” Derek murmurs wryly.

 

“She likes good-byes even less than I do,” Gillian observes, crouching down next to Derek to run her hand along Althea’s back.

 

“No one likes good-byes,” he says, voice soft and sad. Althea lifts her head and licks lightly at Derek’s hand, making him huff a soft laugh and ruffle her ears. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too.”

 

*

 

_Present_

The Owens clan took over almost an entire set of bleachers at the lacrosse final. They’d worked all week while Stiles was at school to make the banners they held: “Go Stiles!” and “24 to Score!” among others. Even though Patrick had told them Stiles hadn’t ever actually played in an official game, they had persevered, all of them unfailingly optimistic.

 

They’re watching the players take the field when Patrick muttered, “Oh no, why is my son running on the field?” Gillian turned to look back at him, confused.

 

“Because he’s on the team?” Kylie offered.

 

Gillian grinned as realization crept over Patrick’s face. “He is. He’s on the team, he’s on the field.” He stood up and yelled, “My son is on the field!” his fist raised jubilantly. After a moment, he looked around at the Owens clan grinning up at him and sheepishly sat back down between Kylie and Melissa McCall. Gillian glanced behind Patrick and shared a wink with Sally.

 

Turning back to the field, Gillian focused on Stiles, who was jittering in place, obviously nervous. She didn’t even notice her own leg was bouncing until Althea’s hand came down on her knee and squeezed gently. “He’ll be fine,” she murmured.

 

“Of course he will,” Gillian answered. “I just… lacrosse is a rough game. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

 

Althea’s hand moved so she could wrap one arm around Gillian’s arm. “Remember what I said when Lilah started taking dance lessons?”

 

“’Bumps and bruises are part of being a kid, it’s how they learn to pick themselves up when they fall,’” Gillian recited with a growing smile.

 

“That’s right.” Althea leaned up and kissed Gillian’s cheek. “He’s almost grown; he knows how to pick himself up.”

 

“He’s had a lot of practice,” Derek observed, sitting down on the bench next to Gillian, Lilah on his lap. “Especially since Scott got bitten.”

 

Gillian looked over at Derek then followed his gaze over to Scott on the Cyclones bench. “Scott’s not playing tonight?” she asked.

 

“Academic probation,” Derek explained after a moment.

 

“I thought Stiles was helping him study?” Althea said. Gillian saw Scott’s mouth move and understanding dawned on Althea’s face. “Seems the help was a little too late. Scott’s failing some of his classes.”

 

“Ouch,” Gillian winced.

 

“Yeah,” Althea agreed. The referee blew the whistle and Althea and Derek both winced away from the sound.

 

Gillian had never considered herself a sports person. She’d watch whenever Gary, Derek, Laura, or Antonia turned a game on, but she mostly stuck around to look at the nice butts in the tight pants. She’d tried really hard to figure out lacrosse over the last week, but all she really knew was that they used the nets on sticks to get the ball to one goal or the other, depending on which side they were on. She also knew that it was a bad thing to lose the ball. Like Stiles just did.

 

“He’s… probably just warming up,” Melissa offered when everyone groaned as Stiles was tackled.

 

“He’s just a little nervous,” Derek suggested the next time Stiles got hit while trying to get the ball back. “Plenty of time to turn it around.”

 

The ball bounced off Stiles’s helmet when one of his teammates tried to pass him the ball and Gillian glanced back to see Patrick’s hands over his face. She reached back and gripped his wrist and he looked up at her. “It’ll be okay, he’ll get it together. Believe in him.”

 

Patrick stared at her then looked out over the field, eyes searching until they stopped, presumably on Stiles. Finally, he nodded. “I always have.”

 

“Good, now _use_ that. Just keep believing.”

 

“Shouldn’t that be ‘don’t stop believing?’” Patrick asked with a hint of a smile.

 

Gillian just laughed and turned back to the game. The game passed in a blur of movement, the ball passed from person to person, but never back to Stiles. “Come on,” Gillian muttered at the start of the fourth quarter. “Pass it, trust him.” Althea’s hand tightened on hers when the ball landed on the ground practically at Stiles’s feet. “Come on, baby, you can do it. Trust yourself.” Stiles managed to get the ball into the net on his stick and took off towards the goal, his panicked yells audible from the stands.

 

“Oh, crap,” Patrick muttered.

 

“Believe,” Gillian insisted, her eyes locked on Stiles. His eyes met hers across the pitch. “ _Believe_.”

 

Stiles turned and launched the ball into the net. The crowd erupted in cheers, most of all from the Owens clan, Melissa, and Patrick, all of them yelling and screaming and stomping their feet on the metal bleachers, signs held high. On the field, Stiles lifted his arms in victory, his grin visible even through his helmet.

 

Cheers echoed over the pitch as the team passed the ball to Stiles more and more as the game progressed and Stiles scored goal after goal. By the time the final buzzer sounded, Beacon Hills had beaten the other team by one point. Stiles’s and Gillian’s eyes met across the pitch and she grinned at him, pride swelling in her chest. “I knew you could do it,” she said.

 

“That’s my son!” Patrick called out behind her. “That’s my boy!”

 

Stiles started towards the stands, pulling his helmet off, grin spread wide, and the lights cut out. Screams echoed over the pitch and Gillian felt a sharp tug of panic from Stiles. “Stiles!” she called.

 

“Scott!” Melissa’s yell barely registered with Gillian over Patrick’s echoing calls for Stiles.

 

The lights came back up and Gillian looked around frantically, searching the crowd. “Where’s Stiles?” she asked, panic pinging through her.

 

“Has anyone seen Stiles?” Patrick called over the crowd’s puzzled murmurs.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Where’s my son?”

 

“Stiles!”

 

“Where the hell is my son?!”

 

*

 

_January 2011_

A surge of panic pulls Gillian out of a sound sleep, leaving her gasping. She hasn’t felt panic this strong from Stiles in years. She scrabbles for her phone on the nightstand, barely registering Althea sitting up and wrapping an arm around her waist as she calls Derek, hands trembling. The call rings through to voice mail and she curses, hanging up and dialing again. She gets his voicemail again and she’s just about to hit redial when Althea gently eases the phone from her hands. “Thea—“

 

“Shh,” Althea soothes, setting the phone back on the nightstand. “It’s two in the morning, here, he’s probably asleep.”

 

“But Stiles—“ Gillian protests.

 

“Has a loving mother and father who are perfectly capable of taking care of him,” Althea reminds her as she coaxes Gillian into laying back down, pressing close against her back once they’re settled. “Who have been taking care of him for sixteen years.”

 

Gillian sighs and presses back against Althea’s warmth. “I know, I do, it’s just… I have someone I trust there now, someone I can talk to and ask to check on him.”

 

“And you can do that,” Althea replies. She nuzzles Gillian’s neck, pulling a reluctant smile from Gillian. “In the morning, at a decent hour.”

 

“Two A. M. isn’t a decent hour?” Gillian asks, turning her head to nuzzle back.

 

“You, my love, are _never_ decent.”

 

Gillian laughs, low and filthy, as Althea’s hand works its way down her body. “You’re trying to distract me.”

 

“Mmm, yes, I am,” Althea agrees and nips Gillian’s shoulder with sharp teeth. “Is it working?”

 

“Maybe,” Gillian allows.

 

“Good.”

 

*

 

_Present_

Gillian watched Patrick somewhat in his element, talking to Scott and Derek’s betas.

 

“I’ve got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means,” he paused, composure cracking a little, a lost look peeking through his professional facade. “Hell, I don’t know what that means. Look, if he answers his phone or answers his emails or either one of you see him…”

 

“We’ll call you,” Boyd assured him, nodding.

 

“Look, he’s probably just freaked out from all the attention and changes, or something,” Scott offered, his face creasing in sympathy. “We’ll find him.” He glanced over at Gillian, including her in his reassurance.

 

Patrick stared at Scott helplessly for a moment then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you, okay?” He walked away and Gillian trailed along behind him. Out in the hallway, Althea and Derek fell into step with Gillian and Patrick.

 

“My pack will do everything they can to find him,” Derek said quietly once they were in the parking lot, safely away from the lingering deputies and players.

 

“I can do a tracking spell when we get back to the house,” Gillian offered, eyes darting around, checking for anyone close enough to overhear them.

 

Stopping next to his truck, Patrick leaned his forehead against the door for a moment. “Packs, spells,” he muttered before turning around to face them, worry etching deep lines around his eyes and across his forehead. “None of that did _anything_ to keep this from happening.”

 

“We’re not psychics, Pat,” Gillian said gently. “We can’t predict what’s going to happen, but what we _can_ do is get him home, as soon as possible.”

 

He sighed and slumped back, rubbing his hands over his face. After a moment, he lowered his hands and met Gillian’s eyes, the pain and grief in them making her heart twist in her chest. “I can’t lose him, Gill. He’s all I have left.”

 

She pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back when he clung to her. “I know, we’ll do everything we can to bring him home.”

 

*

 

_March 2011_

 

The last couple months have been peppered with surges of emotion from Stiles. Every day that passes frays Gillian’s resolve to stay away more and more.

 

A spark, a hint of cloves, an Elvis song she hasn’t listened to in years, and Gillian’s out the door, the memory of Althea’s hair against her skin, Lilah’s skin against her lips keeping her warm as she catches a flight to California.

 

*

 

_Present_

Gillian had sent the family back to the hotel from the high school. The best one to cast the spell to find Stiles was her. Derek and his betas had taken a few things from Stiles’s locker and had headed off into the woods, hoping to find a fresh scent after Erica reported back that there were too many scents on the lacrosse field to track him from there.

 

At the Stilinski house, after a stop at Deaton’s for the herbs she would need for the spell, Gillian grabbed a mangled pen cap from Stiles’s desk and spread out a map of Beacon County on the floor of his bedroom.

 

Patrick was pacing around her, talking on his phone with Derek, while Gillian crushed the herbs from the spell with a mortar and pestle she’d borrowed from Deaton. “Alright, Gillian’s about to start the spell. Listen, if you find him—. Yeah, that’s…yeah.” He slid his phone shut, whispering, “Come on, Stiles, where the hell are you?”

 

“Right here.”

 

Gillian and Patrick both jumped, turning to the bedroom doorway. Gillian stared in shock as Patrick crossed the room in three quick strides to Stiles’s side, his hand and her eyes drawn to the bruise across Stiles’s cheek and his split lip.

 

“Dad, it’s okay. Dad?”

 

“Who did it?” Patrick asked, voice tight with fury.

 

“It’s okay, it was just a couple kids from the other team,” Stiles answered, but his eyes darted to Gillian then back to his dad.

 

Gillian climbed shakily to her feet. “It was Gerard, wasn’t it,” she said.

 

“Where is he?” Patrick demanded. “I’m going to find that bastard and I swear to God, I’m going to pistolwhip him, old man or—“

“Dad!” Stiles yelled, grabbing his arm. “It’s okay.” His voice broke and a tear slipped down his cheek.

 

Patrick stared at him for a long moment before pulling him into a hug. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

 

Gillian looked away, giving Stiles and Patrick a moment, and sent out a text to Althea and Derek, letting them know Stiles was home. The room was quiet for long moments, only the occasional sniffle breaking it. When Stiles and Patrick both drew in deep breaths, Gillian looked up to see them pulling apart. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “How did you escape?”

 

“Gillian,” Patrick said with a hint of warning in his tone.

 

“Dad, it’s okay,” Stiles said quietly, stepping around him to settle on the floor next to Gillian, his back against his bed. “I don’t know. One minute, he’s whaling on me, kicking me.”

 

“God,” Patrick muttered and slumped down on Stiles’s bed, one leg pressing into Stiles’s shoulder.

 

“The next, he’s on the floor clutching his chest and then… he was dead.” Stiles’s voice broke on the last word. Patrick’s hand came down on his shoulder and Stiles reached up, clutching it like a lifeline.

 

Gillian closed her eyes, silently grieving for her little boy. The little boy she never really got to know. “The coroner will rule it a heart attack,” she said quietly.

 

“It wasn’t, was it?” Stiles asked, his voice wobbling.

 

She shook her head, opening her eyes. “No.” She reached out and touched Stiles’s knee. “It _was_ , however, an accident. You’re an untrained witch with no idea of what kind of power you hold. You were defending yourself in the only way you could, consciously or unconsciously.”

 

“That… doesn’t actually help much,” Stiles said quietly.

 

“I know,” Gillian replied, aching to reach out and hug him. “It took me a long time to stop feeling guilty for killing your father.”

 

Stiles and Patrick stared at her in shock. “What?”

 

“He wasn’t a very nice man, but it took me a long time to see it,” Gillian explained, pulling her knees up to her chest, her eyes closing against the pain of the memories crowding her mind. “He basically took me hostage and drove around the country for two weeks and I let him. Until he hit me, dragged me back to our motel, and raped me.”

 

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her and her eyes flew open to find Stiles and Patrick wrapped around her. “I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered.

 

Gillian shook her head, sniffling. “I’m not sorry he’s gone and I’m not sorry that I got you, as a result.”

 

Stiles pulled back and smiled at her, wincing at the pull on his lip. “Yeah, you’ve got me.”

 

*

 

Epilogue

_Four months later_

 

“Lilah! Hurry up! You’re going to be late for your first day!”

 

“Coming, Mama!”

 

“Stiles! Do you need a ride?”

 

“Derek’s taking me!”

 

Two pairs of motherly eyes turn on Derek who is staring down at his bowl of cereal very intently.

 

“Hurt him and they won’t find the body,” Althea says quietly.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek replies, eyes wide.

 

Gillian smiles sweetly and merely pats him on the head. If anything, he looks even more terrified at her silence.

 

Stiles skids into the kitchen and stops, looking between Derek, Gillian, and Althea. “Oh, man, what’d you guys do?”

 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Gillian answers sweetly. “Don’t forget your books.”

 

He eyes them skeptically, scoops his books off the kitchen island, grabs Derek’s arm, and tows him away. “Dad’s working the overnight shift, again, so I’ll see you after school! Bye!”

 

Once the door slams behind Stiles and Derek, Gillian holds a hand out to Althea, who places a $20 bill in her palm.

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles’s name is pronounced pzhe-MIS-wahf (if that's wrong, let me know, I got his name from a couple posts on polish names on Tumblr). Huge, huge, HUGE, thanks go to [IceBlueRose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/IceBlueRose/pseuds/IceBlueRose) for betaing this monster for me and being the sounding board for my ideas over the last few weeks as I banged out the majority of this thing.
> 
> Althea Kapule and Lilah Owens-Kapule belong to me, please don't use them without permission. Althea is played by [Tia Carrere](http://media.tumblr.com/7eb87eaca834bfa62dac880bff36436d/tumblr_inline_ms3y31pEXl1qz4rgp.jpg). Lilah is [Taylor Richardson](http://media.tumblr.com/fa0a43207afdb01e6ec00ebf9c7cf280/tumblr_inline_ms3ye0wSMk1qz4rgp.jpg) with blue eyes.
> 
> There's a chance I'll write more in this universe. There are quite a few things I couldn't fit into this story that I really want to cover.


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